#its a very unwanted change | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

satorena · 6 months

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❝ 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 ! ❞

꒰ CONTENT WARNINGS ! ꒱ : explicit content, foul language, intern!reader, businessman!gojo, satoru’s a bit of a pervert in this one, and also really fucking annoying but he’s just in love fr, oral, slight breath play, unprotected sex, breeding. they fuck in an elevator, and i use a lot of italics here, oops!

serena’s note. he’s so fucking insufferable i want him so bad. also this 4.3k words. i’m so sorry.

oh but of course, since the odds were always against your favour, had you found yourself stuck in this incredulous predicament.

it’d been a long day of enduring misogynistic, narcissistic higher ups and pricks, and you wanted nothing more than to hop in your car and drive off home, hop in bed and sleep.

sounded like an ideal and realistic plan, until the sole purpose of your life’s oppression waltzed in seconds before the elevator’s doors shut, pearly white teeth flashing through a smug grin and icy blues shimmering through dark shades that rested atop his nose bridge.

you huffed, almost at your wit’s end as the elevator’s door automatically reopened at the unwanted presence detected in its sensory, and the tall frame steps in with slow strides and a stupid fucking smile on his lips, hands in the pockets of his slacks, striding as if he stepped out of vogue’s magazine.

“see somethin’ you like, wifey?” satoru chuckled, stepping side to side by your posed frame. why he chose to stand beside in this very unoccupied elevator, you’d never understand but you did know you weren’t going to entertain his bullshit today.

you bit back the insult that rested at the tip of your tongue, “floor?” your index finger hovered over the panel, waiting for him to tell you.

“same as yours,” gojo shrugged, to which you decided on closing the doors instead.

“what business you got on the 2nd floor?” you muttered, suspicions growing at the fact that he coincidentally had shit to do on the same floor as yours.

the boyish smirk he flashed you sent chills down your spine, “whatever business you got on that floor.”

you sighed exasperatedly, soon piecing together that gojo was certainly not going to the second floor to pack his belongings to head home, seeing as he was one of the higher ups that spent longer hours in the office when the interns’ shifts would end.

you pinch the bridge of your nose; “gojo.” you say his name, tone clipped and full of fatigue.

“y/n.” he answers back with your name, a flashy grin baring on thirty two teeth.

you breathe in deeply, reminding yourself to count to ten before you lost your shit. you step near the control panel and press on the main lobby floor, the first, where you decide to send him off. chances were he was heading down there to do his daily flirting with the new secretary hired anyway.

“did ya change your mind?” his voice spawns from right at your ear, and you still in shock at his proximity, noting he’s much closer to you than earlier. “we goin’ to the first floor instead?”

“we are not going anywhere.” you tilt your head to the side, glaring at him through your falsies. he shifts his own head, still fucking smiling, feigning ignorance. “you are going to the first floor, and i’m going to the fifth.”

his smile drops, finally, but at what cost? “why would i do that?” he has the nerve to genuinely sound confused, as if you were the one not making any sense out of this situation.

“why wouldn’t you?” you counter back, lifting an index finger to place atop his forehead, before pushing his head back, “don’t you got better shit to do? like harass a newbie and disguise it as flirting or somethin’?”

“is that not what i’m doing right now?” he jokes, grabbing the finger that pushed him back. you scowl, a bit upset at the fact you walked right into that one.

“besides,” he speaks up, directing your finger towards the control panel once more. “what if i had business on the… seventh floor?”

you furrow your brows, your own eyes watching as he uses your nail to press on the seventh floor button. you try to ignore how warm and soft his hands feel against your, in contrast to the coolness of his rings.

“orrrr,” he drags out, tightening the hold on your hand once more and raising your hand higher on the panel. “what if i had business on the thirteenth floor? maybe the ninth too?”

“gojo.” you warn him, clicking your tongue when realizing what game he’s starting to play at. you definitely don’t feel goosebumps form at your skin hearing his chuckle resonate right in your ear.

“that german intern’s a babe, ain’t she?” he hums pensively, his thumb rubbing circles at the center of your palm. “i might wanna see her too.” he brings your hand to the eight floor and applies enough pressure to see it illuminate.

“are you fucking kidding me?” you get annoyed, attempting to rip your hand away from his hold but fail, when you feel him creep even closer in your bubble, your ass undoubtedly pressing into his crotch.

your eyes widen, half shock half disbelief, a sudden appearance of what seems to be gojo junior stirring awake poking at your short skirt. oh fuck.

“or,” he whispers, minty breath sending jolts of electricity up your back. he drags your hand messily over the panel, about three fourths of the floors illuminating and you know you’re fucked. “maybe i wanna stay stuck in here with you…”

you blink back to reality, dismissing whatever possible emotion you were beginning to feel emerge in your core. with a sharp tug, you manage to free yourself from his grasp and turned on your heel to face the tall bastard.

“i’m gonna need you to back off and instantly—you fuckin’ creep.” you snarl, pointer finger pointing at him accusingly, hoping it sets an exemplary distance between you both.

gojo breaks into laughter, the kind that has his shoulders shaking and has him doubling over as if you’d just told him the world’s greatest joke. you watch him dumbfoundedly, your left eye twitching as he continued to ridicule you.

“fine, fine. sorry princess, i was just teasing.” he pushes his frames up to his hairline, messy strands of hair pushed out the way as he wipes a fake tear from the corner of his eyes.

you roll your eyes, pushing past him to make your way back to where you’d been prior to these stupid events. if you were gonna be stuck on this elevator ride longer than necessary because of the pit stops, you’d simply ignore him and hope he catches the hint.

you stare straight ahead at the elevator door, feeling the ride descend from the twentieth floor downwards. fuck that tall, stupid and rich bastard for dragging this elevator ride past its needed time limit.

from your peripheral, you make out his form leaning forward to catch your straight gaze. you were ignoring him and he knew, “you mad at me?”

you remain quiet, silently praying that at one of these next stops another worker would step in and ease the situation more.

gojo frowns, eyebrows pinched to the center his forehead, “c’mon, i was joking! honest! i really am sorry.”

the silence, safe for the elevator music, answered him everything he needed to know. you were always such difficult nut to crack, but what you failed to acknowledge was the more you pushed him away the more he grew attracted to you.

he sighs, before slinging his arm over your shoulders, dropping most of his body weight onto you. he watches as you nearly stumble from the sudden imbalance, before looking up to him with that adorable pout of yours that he wants to fuck out of you.

oops.

“what now, gojo?” you ask him with so much attitude, your expression bored. “can’t leave me alone for a single fucking elevator ride? you that obsessed with bothering me?”

“you got it all wrong,” gojo shakes his head, snow white tresses shaking with him and his shades falling right back to place on his nose. “i’m not obsessed with bothering you— i’m obsessed with you period. been obsessed since that time you chucked piping hot coffee on my givenchy button down.”

you frown deeply at that, reflecting at how long ago that had been. you knew what kind of guy he was. after all, who hadn’t heard of gojo satoru in this forsaken company? he dipped his dick in anything with a pulse and moved onto the next big thing whenever he got bored—

or so you’ve heard.

you stare at him for a minute, processing his words. he shamelessly stares back at you, now looping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side.

“see something you like, wifey?” he repeats himself, his favorite nickname for you making another appearance. you ignore how his hands stroke your bare arms.

you stifle a laugh, snorting incredulously at him before breaking into a full blown laughter. maybe you now understood why gojo had done the same just a little while ago, because the look of offence on his face had made the situation funnier than it was initially.

“what’s funny?! i’m here professing my feelings for you and you’re laughing?!” gojo complains like the manchild he is, dragging syllables and all, rosy lips falling into a pout.

“fuck— i’m sorry, did you think i was gonna believe that?” your laughter dies down, sighing deeply in attempts to catch your breath. “no, seriously, do you take me for an idiot?”

“believe it or not, it’s the truth,” he mumbles, leaning his chin at the top of your skull. “even ask nanamin. been treating him as my walking diary since suguru left.”

you don’t want to think about if that holds any truth or not. you tilt your head up, enforcing eye contact with him, “i think you’re confused. it’s definitely not love, or anything in between. you’re just horny and want to fuck me.”

“well,” he looks down, mouth salivating at the point of view presented of your breast, sitting up in all their glory in your blouse. “i won’t lie and say that isn’t true. but why is it so hard to believe i have feelings for you? i literally am obsessed with you, why else would i deliberately wast time and sit through all twenty floors here with you?”

speaking of, you look at the indicator and notice you’re only at the seventeenth floor. how slow was this damn ride? there’s absolutely no way you’d only been through less three floors this whole time? was time still in this elevator or what?

wait—

“oh shit.” you hear the man cuss. you fear that’s all the confirmation you needed, as your eyes pan towards the control panel and notice all the buttons are illuminating on and off.

silence fills the air, and you’re just realizing the elevator music had stopped playing. your luck bites, you decide, as you reevaluate all you wanted to do; grab your shit from the second floor and go the fuck home.

you try not to freak out, the fear of being trapped in an elevator period catching up to you mixed with anger rising in your blood at the blue eyed freak who’s the sole cause for this unfortunate situation.

“don’t freak out, but like,” he begins to speak, corner of his lips tugging into a sympathetic smile, “we’re definitely stuck here.”

he deserves the punch to the guts he gets.

“you sit your ass on that end of the room,” you push him to one extremity of the elevator. he’s doubled over, groaning in agony at the blow he received. “and i’ll be sitting here. do not, and i cannot stress this enough, talk to me.”

time flies really fucking slowly, you notice as you check your dying phone every five minutes, waiting for the damn maintenance of this place to do their job and get you out of this elevator.

gojo had complied to your demand and hasn’t said a word to you in about twenty minutes. his long legs sprawled across the floor, one leg raised as he rested his arm atop his knee.

you didn’t want to admit it, but you were getting bored. and hungry. very hungry, and uncomfortably hot. did the air conditioning in here cut off too? most likely, damn your life.

you sat as gracefully as you could in your tight skirt and heels, tucking your legs into chest in hopes your shins were covering your inner thighs. though, you weren’t certain if you were doing a good job, judging by the way you could feel gojo’s stare at you behind the shades and the way he shifted in his seat.

he tilts his head to the side, index finger swiping over his nose and he sniffs, “figures you’re the lace type.”

you feel all the fight flee your body, all but exhausted as you bite into whatever he chews. you needs entertainment, even if it came in form of a 6’3 imbecile with an outfit the cost of your rent.

“figures you’ve been staring at my panties this whole time, when else are you ever this quiet?” you clap back, making no motion to switch positions. besides, he was manspreading with his whole boner poking through his slacks and he remained shameless. why couldn’t you?

he smirks, lifting his hand and leaning his cheek in his palm, “i’ve spent the last twenty minutes thinking about the things i’d do to you if you’d let me.”

gojo was so fucking shameless, you hated how it turned you on at times. you must’ve been truly out of it, lack of food in your system or something, because your answer flies out of you almost too naturally, “show me your worst then.”

in the blink of an eye, you both find yourselves back on your feet, your back pressed against the wall of the elevator as your lips mold feverishly with his. gojo kisses you like he’s been wanting to do so for years, his strong arms wrapping around your middle and pushing your body tighter against him.

you’re no better, hands flying to the back of his neck and your nails tugging at messy locks. he moans against your lips at a particular tug, one hand slipping past your waist and slides up your thigh. he lifts your leg and wraps it around his hip, applying pressure into the middle of your legs.

“fuck,” you moan softly against pink lips, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. he hums, your bottom lip tucked in his teeth as he pushes up into you once more.

“feel good?” he mumbles against your lips, sneaking a few kisses while awaiting for your response. his hold on your thigh is firm, wanting to hold you in place to keep grinding into you and drawing these pretty sounds out of you.

you nod your head before throwing it back against the wall, to which his lips leave yours to attack at your neck. he’s kissing and licking and nipping at your sensitive skin, leaving dark love bites.

“you fuckin’ teenager,” you complain, knowing he was intentionally marking you in visible areas, so you’d be the next talk of the week. “just had to be there, didn’t it?”

“couldn’t help it,” you feel his smirk against your jugular, to which you roll your eyes. “you smell so fucking good here, shit, i could eat you up— actually…”

you snort as he pulls away from the crook of your neck, and you eye how dishevelled he looks. even with messy hair, saliva streaking his cheeks and swollen lips, he still looked fucking hot.

you don’t have much time to reflect on his beauty because he’s soon kneeling down in front of you, hands creeping up in your skirt and tugging down at your lace undergarment. it slides off your legs with ease, and is soon in his possession, to which he stuffs in his pockets.

“i will.” he finally completes his sentence, lifting your leg over his shoulder.

he holds a firm grip on your thigh as your skirt hikes up, and he feasts. his lips latch onto your lower ones and slurps up your juices. his tongue swipes at your wet folds, moaning at the taste, which drives you to mush.

you throw your head back, hands coming in contact with his tresses, expressing the delight you feel through the tugs at his hair. whenever you’d pull hard at his hair, he’d moan into your cunt, which would result in making you moan louder and pull harder, and the cycle repeats.

“f-fuck, hah—gojo,” you whine when you feel a single digit prod into your pussy. he multitasks with fucking you open with his finger while sucking at your clit and lapping up your juices.

“shit, mhm, keep going,” you push his head deeper into your legs, momentarily forgetting you’re cutting out his breathing circulation.

you then realize he truly doesn’t mind, as his eyes roll to the back of his skull and moans even more sinfully into your dripping pussy.

it didn’t take much more than a few extra fingers to drive you over the edge, and you spray your essence in his mouth as he happily swallows every single drop you offer to him. your thighs quake and you feel yourself lose balance but he makes sure to hold you still.

you ride your high on his face, breathing heavily as you come down from your orgasm. he pulls away from in between your legs, breathing heavily with a smitten smile on his lips. “bon appétit,” he jokes, using the back of his hand to wipe himself clean.

you snort at his childishness, “shut up and gimme a moment to return you the favour.”

and just like that, you find yourself now kneeling and gojo hovered over you. he stretched his arm to hold himself up against the wall while simultaneously watching you swallow his cock whole.

now, all cocky shit aside, gojo was nowhere near small sized. he packed a big one, and the fact that you were so confidently gobbling him up, head bobbing up and down on his length, hands twisting and jerking whatever you failed to reach.

“fuckfuckfuck—shiiit, dammit y/n, your mouth feels fuckin’ amazing,” gojo whines pathetically, leaning his forehead against the cool wall.

it unintentionally forces his tip deeper in your throat and you gag around him, throat constricting around his dick and fuck if his knees hadn’t buckled.

you knew gojo was a spontaneous man, so him suddenly reaching the back of your head and pushing you deeper on his dick shouldn’t have surprised you. you were now deepthroating him as he praised you endlessly, telling you how perfect you were taking him, how warm and tight your mouth felt, how he was going to cum if you kept playing with his balls.

when he does nut, your nose reaches his pubic hairs, curly white hairs ticking you as you inhale his musk in attempt to force yourself to suppress your gag. he cums a riverbank down your throat and naturally you swallow it all, pulling off him when he finishes and seeing a string of cum and saliva connect his blushing pink tip to your lips.

“fuck,” he chuckles breathlessly, hand laying atop of your head and patting your hair gently before sliding down to your jaw. his thumb strokes your skin, “come up here, wanna kiss you again.”

“sap.” you tease but lift yourself, knees wobbly but you manage.

you’re back to standing, and your hands quickly find themselves back to his nape, threading your fingers gently through his hair. he kisses you much less rushed but instead takes his time, savours the taste of him on your tongue as you taste yourself on his.

the kiss is sensual and sloppy, drool pooling at the corner of your lips as he kisses you like his lifeline depends on it. his hands slip at your ass, grabbing the mounds with handfuls.

he pulls away just slightly, wording against your lips “jump.”

you comply, jumping and he catches you gracefully, showing no signs of struggle. you wrap your legs around his waist and proceed to kiss him again, your back coming in contact with the wall. you feel him grind his hardening dick against your bare pussy, and if you had half your regular mind, you’d have been embarrassed by how badly you were dripping over him.

“‘m gonna fuck you now,” gojo mumbles against your lips, lips peppering kisses at the corner of your saliva coated mouth. “that good with you, princess?”

you give him a flat look, fingers still carding through his soft locks. “use your thinking skills and guess.”

he smiles at you, almost too sincere and raw, and you feel your eyes shy away from his gaze, focusing instead at the beauty mark marked at the base of his neck. “hey, consent is sexy, meanie.”

“the sexiest,” you feed into his bite, giggling when you feel him nuzzle his nose in the crook of your neck. his crown of hair tickles at your skin. “now hurry up.”

you surely don’t have to tell him twice as he pulls out of your neck and grabs the base of his dick, placing his tip at your pulsating hole and pushes inside.

the synchronization of both your moans blend into each others, as your gaze on one another never breaks. he watches you intently, blue eyes narrowing into your facial reactions, wanting to memorize every twitch of muscles in case this was ever his last opportunity to.

“mmhm—yes, baby,” you claw at his back, eyes droopy and hazy as he thrusts into you at a slow yet intense pace. if gojo noticed the term of endearment you slipped up, he made no show in pointing it out, and you were thankful.

the stretch of his cock at your pussy sent a fiery feeling spreading towards all of your limbs. the squelching of your pussy tightening and clenching at his dick filling the room. he soon picked up his pace, railing into you with every fibre in his body, loving the way your body bounced up in reaction to his thrusts.

he fucked you into that wall, dug so deep into your cunt you were sure you felt him in your stomach. well no wonder why women were obsessed with him, he was definitely a pleaser. a stinging bitter feeling momentarily crawled up your throat before dissipating when you caught his eyes staring at you with something you’d usually refer to as admiration.

“god, this pussy is heaven fucking sent—never had anythin’ like it—oh shit baby, gotta have more of this— gotta have more of you, please y/n—need this all the fuckin’ time,” he praised you like it was the only thing he knew how to do.

he was a verbal man, you knew, but it amplified during sexual activities. you shamefully moaned at every praise he threw at you, pussy clenching at his dick, warmth oddly settling in your chest. you scratched at his back, he bit into your shoulders, nipped at your lips and rammed your core.

in little to no time, you felt that tide of pleasure washing over you, your cervix unable to take anymore of his tip bullying into it.

“gojo, fuckkk, ‘m so fucking close!” you mewl brokenly, as tears stream down your cheeks from the overriding pleasure.

“satoru,” he breathes out, his name falling straight within earshot. his hips never give up, but his request is asked based off raw emotions, “call me satoru—please,”

your mind is running miles a minute, the tightening of your gut on the brink of snapping and spraying your dam yet again all over him.

he whimpers with his nose pressed at your jugular, his grip on your thighs so tight your bound to have bruises form soon, and your back begins to ache from repeatedly being pushed up against an uncomfortable surface.

but fuck, you were so fucking close.

“hnng—satoru!” you cry as your orgasm washes over you, rakes through your body from head to toe, muscles spasming in his hold.

you leak like a faucet, and he follows suit, moaning your name all brokenly, whimpering and whining in your ear as he pumps your pussy full of his cum. for a split second you feel your bodies merge into one, the orgasm so intense you almost forgot just who and where this was happening.

eventually, you both ride down from your highs, and satoru places you down to your feet, though never pulling out of you. his dick is snug in your warm walls, and he’s tempted to stay like this for longer, until you decide to speak.

“c’mon big guy, pull out.” you tap at his chest gently, pulling him out of his daydream. “we have no idea when maintenance’ll show up.”

he blinks slowly, nodding as he acknowledges your words. it’s almost a damn miracle they hadn’t shown up while satoru was fucking you, but now that the lust had faded away, you almost felt ashamed of yourself.

“yeah just— gimme a second.” he breathes to himself, silently wishing he’d been able to bask in the aftercare with you a little longer. he guesses he should’ve known better than to expect such in an elevator of all places.

you remain quiet and he hates it. did you regret it already? is he back to square one with you?

you bite your lip, “goj— satoru.”

he perks his head up and you swear you see his ears wiggle as if he were a dog. his eyes shimmer with hope and you don’t think he’s ever looked this pretty before, “what’s up?”

“i’m gonna need my panties back, you know.” you nod your head towards his pocket where your lace undergarments were stuffed. “they were my favorite.”

“what a shame, guess you’ll have to grab it another day.” he sighs dramatically, feigning despair. giggling, you feel his fingers drum at your bare waist, “say, maybe friday night around 7pm at your place?”

“guess i have no other choice, do i?” you sigh just as dramatically, pulling him closer by the collar of his wrinkly white button down. he grins so widely your cheeks hurt for him, or maybe they hurt for yourself as you reflected his grin.

“i don’t make the rules baby.”

this was definitely rushed but leave me alone 🖐🏾.

#stargirl★rena.#gojo satoru #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu gojo

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chisatowo · 1 year

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Rotates Wendy gender moments in my head at rapid speeds

#rat rambles #I feel like I need a tag at this point but like wtf would I make it fucking starve posting??? together posting???? like idk man #I should just make it wendy posting /j #idk Ill get back to it #anyways just thinking abt him after warly joins the group having like two seperate spirals one over the inability to accept any sense of #comfort or normality after getting so used to just the fight for the next day that any change from that feels terrifying #and the other is that the surrounding of ppl that tend to gender him pretty regularly is finally making him start to crack #and he sees the latter as the bigger deal since hes convinced himself of like a billion different reasons its not ok fjdhfbfhf #I have like a whole mini story in my mind where he impulsively goes off on his own after getting too overwlemed by all of this and just #wants to get away from everyonr for a while but walter turns up and doesnt read the room so now theyre on a semi unwanted roadtrip together #wendy wishes he only let him stay because of abby but alas he helps him stay sane too so whatever #its just wendy being like there is no light in my life except abigail and then seeing a spider and being like I miss webber :(#and walter is just being walter but also kind of having his own lil everything sinking in crisis but like hes. attempting to cope. ish.#as in hes kind of doing everything in his power to just not think abt it which is why he himself headed off on his own lil trip #and back home webber and the others are probably very worried rip #oh also abby is having a bit of a Moment too but mostly outside of wendy's pov (aka when hes asleep)#also yeah I may or may not have like. quite a bit in my head for abby character stuff. it may or may not be a problem.#mostly just her being a very social person who cant properly talk to anyone but wendy most of the time and it driving her kinda crazy #along with her not quite wanting to grapple with the fuzz in her head that is the time between her death and her and wendy coming to the #constant and also the fact that shes well. dead.#its a lot easier to not think abt it too hard when shes able to busy herself well enough but with wendy being more out of it and abby not #being quite able to focus herself fully on helping him since she wants to wait for him to cool off a lil first #it leaves her with a lot more time to like. notice things.#like how wendy's face has changed slightly. or how hes nearly lost all of his baby teeth by now. or how his hair seems to be getting darker #just small changes that she hast experienced. that she'll never experience.#she doesnt like thinking abt that kind of stuff and as such attempts to use walter for distraction with mixed results #its just them trying to find ways to communicate in a very hopeful and earnest manner and then like an hour later theyre just head in hands #sitting by the camp fire trying not to cry while wendy twitches violently in his sleep and snores loudly #just 3 kids on the verge of a breakdown camping in the woods what could possibly go wrong

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winged777 · 1 year

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also not to be horny on main but,…. man i would love to feel wanted and desired

#my heart does a little flip in my chest just thinkin about it like…#i have felt very deeply unwanted for Years because i was unwanted #and now its a core belief that i am working to change but like i also dont want to be wanted with lust #i want to be wanted out of love.#love for me and for my body AND desire to have and tohch me #ok enough naomi #personal

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shanieveh · 10 months

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when im no longer young and beautiful...

— growing old with the genshin men

you both wander the world — kazuha, KAVEH, itto, bennett, TARTAGLIA, kaeya, xingqiu, heizou

Even as years and decades go by, you and him travel the world in order to really feel its beauty. And the best part? Even as your hair color turns gray, you both were still together. And it was the most beautiful part in all your adventures.

Seeing every single part of the world and cherishing all it's glory. You were glad to do it with him, his smile never really changed after all these years. In some cheesy way, in all your adventures his utter joy is the best view.

settling in and starting a family— alhaitham, DILUC, ayato, thoma, TIGHNARI, gorou, tartaglia

It probably is adopting or other means, but with him you finally have family. Full of cheers, full of parenting but always full of love. Every day you were never alone, there was never an instance where you felt unwanted. Home. That was one word to describe it.

But watching all your little babies grow up was the hardest part, and as they all go on and live their lives he was still there. Doing the same lovey dovey gestures he did when you first fell in love, when you married, and when you grow old in each other's arms.

living a quiet life— kaeya, xiao, THOMA, tighnari, CYNO, dainsleif, SCARAMOUCHE, KAVEH, albedo

Both of you have gone through so much, and this domestic bliss is really the heaven. The happy ending. Everyday growing the plants to eat, doing laundry, cleaning the dishes. These little mundane tasks, just being in each other's presence. No one to bother you, no more pain. Just... peace.

Even as time fades by like sunsets in the afternoon, it never really got boring. Just living in a simple house, sleeping in an always disorganized bed. Playing with the little kids in the farm. You couldn't ask for anything else, with him by your side you couldn't ask for anything more. Because what else can you even ask for when this is enough.

still acts like young couples— kaeya, ALHAITHAM, xingqiu, VENTI, heizou, itto, cyno, ZHONGLI

It doesn't matter even if wrinkles cover your face, he would still kiss every part of you. The same over the top pet names. Still twirling you around like your first date. Still sharing the same straw in your favorite drink. Sometimes people would share a look of judgment but he really didn't care.

Dancing in the rain, the water droplets as your very own music. Laughter as your melody. 5 years.. turned to 20 years turned to 30 years. Even then the dance never had actual steps, more so the tapping and intimacy of two soulmates in the comfort of the rain.

BONUS: visiting your grave— scaramouche, VENTI, zhongli, xiao, DAINSLEIF, pierro, albedo

Knowing that one day his immortality would catch up, he cherished every single day with you. And for a very long time he never had been so happy—so content. Looking at your grave, one that he himself carved your favorite flowers. Making a garden surrounding it. It became more of a haven for him, rather than a mouring spot.

He was grateful for everything, the memories, the time even if finite, and you. His mind always full of war for a minute... finally became happy. He finally learned to be grateful for what he had. And even years after your death, he was still so glad... that you grew old with him.

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deceitfuldevout · 4 months

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Until Death (Part 1)

Arranged Marriage AU: Dark!Husband!Rafe Cameron x Wife!Reader

Word Count: +1,524

Warning(s): +18, Non con, Non consensual photographing, Domestic Violence, Humiliation, Forced breeding, Unwanted orgasm.

Author's Note(s): I wrote this cause I really wanna get married and find someone to love me but I don’t think it’s possible so here’s a fic instead 🥲

You never would've imagined being married to the Kook king himself, Rafe Cameron. But here you were, almost a year in. From the beginning you felt like an outsider. Even in the new home that Ward had gifted you. It was decision made by both of your fathers. Ward wanted someone from a family he knew very well. Your fathers were childhood friends and trusted each other enough to make the right decision. Whether their children were willing to or not. An arranged marriage between a Kook and a Pogue. One of the first of its kind.

Ward needed an heir from his only son. It was about time Rafe learned some responsibility. Ward needed to find a family with no authority or power. So, what better decision than to contact an old friend from the cut? Ward managed to pull himself out of there, your father on the other hand, wasn't so lucky. However, by Mr. Cameron's gracious offer, your father had been given a position in his company. Ward would handle the paperwork, while your father handled construction and remodeling.

It was enough to get by, but not enough to get out of the cut. That's why your father made the brash decision. Ward didn't see a problem with the arrangement given your family had no name for themselves. To him, having a family with no name or status is better than being involved with a tarnished one. It would avoid any unwanted attention for the Cameron family.

All your father wants is to make sure his only child would be taken care of once he's gone. You've only met Rafe during family events/outings, and when you did meet, he'd always try to torment you. Other than that, most of time would be spent clinging to Sarah for protection.

You hadn't known about the arrangement until a week prior. You defiantly hadn't expected Rafe to get on one knee in front of everyone. Your engagement was a nightmare, Rafe had decided to ambush you during the Kook's annual midsummer event. A few months later you married into the Cameron family. The event being of the most lavish, expensive, and largest weddings in the history of the Outer Banks.

Rafe made the decision that your honeymoon would be spent ‘setting up home’. You bid your family and friends a farewell before leaving with your husband. It was awkward enough that he'd been drinking for most of the night. What was supposed to be a beautiful ceremony quickly became a frat party. It was awkward enough when Rafe (who'd been drinking most of the night) tried carrying you across the threshold of what was your new home. He stumbles a few times, almost dropping you on the front steps. All you wanted was to go to bed after a long and eventful day.

In a fit of rage you rush up the stairs and into the master bedroom. You hadn't even changed out of your wedding dress. Deciding that it would be done tomorrow, as would everything else. It was tiring, putting on an act in front of hundreds of people. You were relieved for it to be over with. Until the harsh turning of the doorknob catches your attention. In came a very intoxicated Rafe Cameron, stumbling in with his tie already undone.

His hair was a mess from wrestling his groomsman, his expensive cologne overtaken by the stench of alcohol. All you want now is to sleep after being anxiety ridden for the past few hours. But the shuffling on the end of the bed made your stomach churn. Maybe if you pretended to be asleep he would leave you be.

Rafe reaches down to brush the back of his hand on your cheek. He couldn't help but chuckle at his fiancee--no, his wife. You're his wife now and he couldn't believe it. He grins from cheek to cheek, hovering over to study your features. You could hear Rafe talking to himself, "You're even prettier up close..."

Rafe was fine with the wedding day being for his wife, but it was the wedding night that belonged to the husband.

He gets on his knees, preparing to strike. He pulls you but the ankle, dragging you across the bedsheets. He locks his arms around your thighs to pull you in. It was futile trying to fight back. Rafe rips away at the fabric, revealing what was for his eyes only. He doesn't waste time getting to work, suckling, lapping, and teasing at your sex.

When he starts to dip his tongue inside that's when you crumble beneath him. Your thighs shake when coming undone. A gush of arousal splashes his face. Rafe doesn't stop there, instead he keeps going until you're brought to tears cumming for the second time. He retreats with a triumphant look on his face.

"Hey...." he whispers followed by a harsh grip on your jaw that turns your attention back to him, "Hey," his voice boomed. He held you in place, looking you right in the eyes when he states, "Look at me," a small pause follows, "No one is coming through that door to save you," he readjusts his grip, digging his fingers into your jaw, "No one is coming through that door, we're the only ones here," leaning in, "And if they heard they wouldn't care, they know their place," before lifting your skirt up, "It's about time you did too," Rafe held his cock in one hand, his other held your hip in place. He pumps his shaft a few times before rubbing it against your slick. He moans, "Oh fuck...can't wait to stuff you with it..." Rafe dips his head into the crook of your neck, his lips find that sweet spot. He suckles until he's certain there would be bruising.

"You can scream all you want, no one’s gonna stop me,” he presses his leaking tip against the small opening, pushing it in without hesitation, “Not you…” he just his hips, “Not our families,” thrusting his cock inside, “No one…” fastening his pace. He’d been waiting for this moment for a long, long time. You had no idea that Rafe had willingly entered this marriage.

Can’t you see? He’s been in love with you for as long as he can remember. Yet you kept denying him repeatedly. Now Rafe has everything he’s ever wanted. He’s inherited the Cameron family fortune, gained the trust of his father as well as yours, and now he has you.

He doesn’t stop thrusting his hips back and forth. Reveling in the feeling of you squeezing his member. It was exactly how he’d fantasized about. No more having to spend late nights wondering what you would feel like. He has you right where he wants. Rafe pulls down your top, exposing both breasts. He nips and suckles at them until they’re nice and bruised. He takes pride in being able to do so. Rafe squeezes your mouth open before pressing his lips against them. He sucks your tongue into his mouth, swirling it around his. The taste of liquor makes you nauseous.

This wasn’t how you wanted to end the night. In the end you never had a choice. Your entire life revolving around men in power. A lamb sent to be slaughter, given only the right to live. Even if it meant living for someone else. Rafe presses his sweaty forehead against yours. He snarls, "You're my wife until I fucking die, do you hear me? Until death," his teeth sink into the flesh of your shoulder, digging hard enough to break skin.

A howl escapes your body as pain shot through it. Rafe held you close to him until he finally reached his limit and finishes inside. A deep, guttural moan is muffled into the bite mark. For a moment the two of you stay together until finally Rafe draws back. He’s a panting mess. He could practically feel how slick you became. He lets out a satisfying huff of victory. Rafe had won.

A part of him wants to remember the day he finally got to take you. Then it hits him, “Wait…don’t move,” rummaging through a cabinet. He retreats down the hall. You could hear him searching for something in the unopened boxes. He then returns to you with a Polaroid in hand. He straddles your waist, aiming the lens at you. Rafe smiles, “Something to remember this moment...” he aims it right in your face, “...our first time as husband and wife,” before clicking it.

You could only give a startled look as you stare back at him. Like a deer caught in headlights. Rafe inspects the photo of you. He whistles at the beautifully captured moment. There you were, staring back at him with smudged lipstick and running mascara. You only blink as he stood there, snapping pictures like it was some heartfelt moment. What was supposed to be the most important day of your life, ended in the worst way imaginable.

"Smile for me Mrs. Cameron..."

Rafe was fine with the conditions of inheritance. In order to stay in his father's will, he would have to settle down first. But if there's one thing Ward taught him, it's to negotiate. Rafe remembers striking the deal in his father's office. For the first time ever, the young Cameron man put his foot down,

"No," Rafe states,

Ward looks up at his son, "I'm sorry?"

"I'm not getting married, not unless it's her," he's dead serious too. Ward sighs, he leans back in his chair, "Do you really want to marry this girl?" questioning his son's authenticity. Rafe nods, "It's always been her,"

Ward understands now that his son's mind is made up. Not even he could stop it, "Rafe...you have to understand that her father is a very important member of my company..." he starts, "...he's a bit of a... traditionalist," he pushes himself off the desk, approaching his son, "He expects a certain price for her hand, that I’m not worried about…” he held Rafe's shoulder.

Ward looks his son dead in the eyes to show how serious this situation was to both of their families, “Do not fuck this up, you only get one shot and then you're done, do you hear me? Done," he expects an answer. Rafe looks him in the eyes, there’s a park of determination in the young Cameron man, “I won't,” sealing the deal. Ward picks up his phone and dials up your father’s number, "My friend, you're needed at the office, it's about time we discuss family matters,"

The best decision Rafe made was making you Mrs. Cameron.

#dark!rafe #dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe x reader #dark!rafe cameron x reader #reader #reader insert #fem!reader #afab!reader #fab!reader #my works #my work

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ataraxiaspainting · 2 months

Text

The Chauffeur.

Yan Aventurine x F Reader.

Synopsis: Life has always made losers out of people like you. You dream even now that that could be changed. But can it really?

Warnings: Yandere themes, manipulation, kidnapping, stalking, drugging, misogyny, abuse of power, and mentions of violence.

Word Count: 3.2k.

*~*~*~*

When thrust into a world filled with illusions of chance, one can only hope that change will soon arise.

The company, the appearances, the losers, the winners; nothing ever changes, not even the dreams that things will.

How you are treated is a gamble all on its own too, despite you wishing it were not so. Lady Luck has yet to smile upon you, but instead of gifting you with snake eyes, she gives you the utmost displeasure of being slapped, being threatened, or having your salary lowered. You sometimes wish she would just give you the lowest score on a physical die instead of an invisible one.

You wish she would have made you less appealing to unwanted stares, would have made you have a burned face that would scare off anyone as soon as they looked at you. Hell, even make you be an old woman begging for spare change. That would be a better existence than to live in this body, where you are forced to wave and smile and conceal the bruises and slap marks whenever they appear in a place not covered by your dress. Not that your dress covers anything.

You have three jobs in this casino. Your first one is to spin the wheel or make the letters visible after all the bets are placed and the speaker gives you the signal to do so. Your second one is to always look presentable, your boss’s definition of “best”. Appearances will bring in more onlookers, he said. Just get yourself all dolled up. Okay, toots?

You conform every time your clothes change in color, size, and pattern because after all, they could just replace you with someone more willing.

After all, you have your mouth to feed and your own back to clothe.

So, you endure not all of it, but most of it. You endure the times your assigned makeup artist has called you a whore for not letting him stay in your room during his breaks, the times the suited mascot of this place squeezed you a bit too tight when you were told to take a few photos with him. You pretend not to notice things like that, because if you start a conflict who knows what will happen?

The applause of onlookers is always paired up with lewd comments about your body instead of congratulations to the winner.

The heels you are paid to wear always manage to make you trip onto someone, or rely on some flirty stranger to help you walk to and fro. Your manager told you to grow your hair out when you first started working here, and when it finally reached the desired length he gave you very few options when it came to which hairstyle you wanted. If you remember correctly, it couldn’t have been more than four. All of them had curtain bangs and waves. There was even one, you think, that had something to do with bleaching.

You opted for the one that let you keep the most of your natural hair pattern, not that that was a lot.

Your dresses always come with a slit to see one of your legs. Temptations bring in more dreams, and with dreams come people wanting to be big shots. That is what your boss said to you after you questioned your given work wardrobe. You did not want his glare and mocking laugh to be aimed at you any longer, so you nodded and went to change. He praised you for it later, but your brain protected itself by not remembering what he said.

All you can recall is the way you shuttered at him wrapping an arm around your bare shoulders, a lit cigarette in his hand.

You don’t shutter as often anymore after he scowled and threatened to place it on your palm.

Your world is simpler than it was before when you were sleeping on the streets and given just barely enough to scrape by. You only have three jobs to do, but the third one holds the most importance. Sabotage the gamble. Never let them win unless they hold enough power that your boss permits you to stand back.

There have been very few instances of that happening, but they happen nonetheless. They are this casino’s equivalent of a blue moon. There are telltale signs before you are told of their status. Their clothes are always glittering like an invisible spotlight is on them. They always have guards, and people sticking to their arms like glue just itching for a taste. It is an even rarer sight to see one of them being chosen to be their partner for the night. You can tell when a person can buy you off with their proportion of pocket change. Not that anyone has, much to your gratitude.

This man is just like them. You can sense the ego dripping off of him, and can sense how much all those rings on his fingers cost.

This is the real deal. You can tell. That earring of his is probably worth twice that of all of your organs. That is being generous with the price you would most likely hold on the black market. In reality, perhaps thrice. That is not even going into his pink sunglasses, which have tiny gems stuck on the sides.

He has a gun holster, you think, but the gun itself is nowhere to be seen.

Perhaps one of his men is holding it for him. Perhaps.

From the corner of your eye, you see your boss amongst the crowd, nodding slowly at you. He is sitting in a booth a bit more distanced from the others, three women on either side of him. Every time he sits there, it is your first signal that something is surely going to happen. Good or bad. This time it is good, and you will end the night with nothing less than a few thousand credits for playing your part well. Last time it was bad, and you ended up having so much more than a simple slap on the wrist.

He has three dice between his pointer and middle fingers. One green, one teal, and one dark blue. They are each twelve-sided from what you can see, but the sigils remain unseen by you. Maybe for the best, you think, you don’t want him to take up as much memory space as he already has.

All you want is for this shift to be over, but with this unplanned patron skipping the line of gamblers to gamble himself, who knows how long until the dice stops rolling?

Your fellow staff members look happier, displaying genuine smiles on their faces. Not that you can blame them though, most of them are new hires because your boss tends to fire people on the daily.

“Hold on a sec, please. Madam, I would like to use my lucky charms before you spin the wheel. If you don’t mind, that is.” The man requests. It is not a sincere question, you note, because he clasps onto the dice in his palm so lightly like they are gravity-resistant.

Instead of looking at him, you look at your boss first. He doesn’t seem to be paying attention to you any longer with what looks like one of the women being straddled on his left thigh. Hmm. It’s your call then, you suppose.

“Sure,” You answer, trying to put on your best polite grin. “Who am I to deny such an… experienced gambler?”

“Thank you for the praise,” He replies, his free arm bending as he scratches the back of his head. “But you… misunderstand, I am just a simple bettor, nothing more.”

The positioned desk with a microphone attached has just become this casino’s newest playing ground. Faster than you can blink, the dice are let out of his hand and roll. When they stop, you can hear cheers and praises, as if they are all meant for him.

A spotlight is focused on him too, a color more dazzling than the brightest glittering gold.

“I’m going to choose the peach.”

You nod and spin the wheel, all of the colors blurring together, slowly but surely soon coming to a stop.

The pink area with the same peach is on the pointer, and the crowd all clap their hands and dance.

*~*~*~*

During your breaks, you are allowed to go to your recovery room to do whatever limited array of activities your bookshelf and dusty boxes under your bed had in store for you. The breaks are always nothing more than half an hour, but you earned the right to have your breaks’ minimal times be nothing less than ten minutes.

“I just… noticed you never play the games you so often assist, that’s all.” The blond stranger continues to follow as you speedily walk down the hallway to the backrooms. Little by little, the golden paint that coats the walls turns into a dull beige, a sure sign that your treasured little hiding place is near.

“I wish I could but right now I have my lunch break, sir.”

His speed is nowhere near diminishing, no, if anything it is getting more profound.

If you did not have unwanted company, if you did not have to worry about the security cameras in every corner of this part of the casino, if you did not have this job you hate to your very core, you would have torn the high heels off of your blistered feet.

But you cannot because you do have unwanted company, you do have to worry about the security cameras in every corner of this part of the casino, you do have this job you hate to your very core. So, the high heels stay on and make sounds with every step you take.

“Come on, Miss [First]. I know you want to.” You have been unable to get him off your back for the past ten minutes. Even when you attempted to walk around the less crowded parts of this casino in circles, he was there. “[First]. A lovely name, if I say so myself. [First], [First], [First].”

It takes everything in you not to frown or cross your arms. That could be considered rude, especially to someone as high standing as this man. “Utmost sincere apologies, sir, but I really-”

“Aventurine.” He interrupts. “It’s Aventurine, Miss. You don’t have to call me sir, you know. We’re alone here in this stank hallway. Without my money, I’m just like you, and I’m sure we can become great friends.”

“In my opinion, I believe that there are better people than me to form connections with, Mister Aventurine.” You try not to huff in frustration, but you could have sworn that one was let out.

In the distance, you see your recovery room, the number two on it turning off and on every few seconds.

It has always been that way. The only one who often gets renovations to their living quarters is your boss. The rest of you are nothing more than cow fodder to him, even his assistants.

“You should head back, Mister Aventurine.” You say, the smile on your face trying its hardest not to fade as you turn to look at him. “I don’t want your seat at the pinball machine to be taken from you.”

“And who do you think would have the guts to steal from me?” Aventurine smirks, one of his hands lowering his sunglasses down to the tip of his nose. “No one is that suicidal, that’s the hard truth.”

He winks at you faster than you can get a grip on your door’s handle.

“Just think about it, m’kay?”

In a flash, he starts walking off, leaving you all alone.

*~*~*~*

“Ah, you’re back!”

Aventurine is at the start of the hallway, the part where the gold paint is the most pronounced.

“My break ended.” You say your answer quickly and simply as you walk past him. Instead of your high heels, you are wearing black flats.

Your feet were bleeding much more than usual when you finally made it to your room. Yeah. That is the excuse you will give to your boss if he asks. He seems drunk and is still at his little booth, not to mention it is dark in the casino at the moment, so there is quite a low chance he will.

“You don’t look so good.” Aventurine nearly shouts, causing you to walk even faster to make it to the wheel of fortune. “Did something happen?”

His voice is soon drowned out by the crowds of people talking. Just a few more seconds. A few more seconds, and he won’t be able to bother you much longer and he will head back to that pinball machine he has been hoarding for the past hour.

You move past the ogling eyes of drunk consumers and move past the guards, who always let you behind the stage without a hassle. Your flats don’t make nearly as much noise as the heels as you walk up the five steps.

You only have three minutes before the curtains withdraw from their positions, so you pull on your bun to make it tighter and put the stray baby hairs behind your ears. You brush any dust off your dress and then brush off any dust that is on the gambling wheel. The cleaners only work after all the shows are done and all the guests go home, so it is up to you to make sure the show is always looking its best.

You hear the countdown from the electric speakers and the onlookers.

“Five! Four!”

You take a few deep breaths.

“Three!”

You hear the confetti cannons turn on.

You close your eyes and think about the best possible future, one where you can be happy. Where you can be yourself. Where your smiles are real. Where your happiness is real. Reading for as much as your heart desires. Trying all the delicious-looking food no matter how strange it may look.

“Two!”

Instead of hearing the number one, you just hear more cheers.

The curtains move to the designated sides of the stage, and the near-blinding spotlight shines at you. You smile, waving at the crowds of people, until you see something that nearly causes your facade to crumble down.

Aventurine stands there at the start of the line, holding his three dice just like before.

*~*~*~*

You avoid Aventurine just long enough for the casino to close for the night. It was not an easy task by any means, but somehow retreating to the bar on the job and making simple conversations with other patrons and fellow staff members was enough to repel him.

Since it is after hours, the bartender has gone back to his room to sleep after downing five shots of Spade. He will be hungover tomorrow, that much is certain.

Ah, to only work when it is far past dusk. A dream only for your boss’s most favored employees. Aside from the bartender, there is his guard, who has been seen for the past few months being so drunk that he cannot even stand; he has to sit on the floor.

There is no room for you in that little club. But your gut tells you that it is better this way, for no one unfavored can see what goes on inside.

It is only you in this bar now, spinning around on the stool closest to the gates that lead to the other side. It’s you. Despite this job, despite everything, you are still you. All you ever have to be is you. Only you.

The glass in front of you is half full. Half full with Melancholy. It is only slightly bitter, the rest of the flavor profile being floral and refreshing. This type of shot glass is only reserved for people as high standing as Aventurine due to the little scattering of gold at the rim.

They are stuck there so they won’t choke whoever is drinking from the cup. For once, your boss put his resources into something partially useful. If only he would do the same with your salary and put some more credits into it.

The door’s chiming bell rings. You hear the front door then close. Did the bartender forget to lock the door?

Should you say something? You don’t want to get in trouble with your boss tomorrow, and his hangover will certainly make his wrath ten times worse than it already was.

The sound of footsteps doesn't fade, and another sound accompanies it soon enough; Aventurine’s voice.

“Hey. Just wanted to drop by. See what you’re doing this late all alone, you know?”

Before you can turn around and politely ask him to leave, he sits on the stool beside you. Vibrant eyes make contact with yours.

A hand goes on your shoulder, squeezing with a purpose; to keep you quiet.

“Are you drunk? You smell like Blossom Dew and Soothing Soda. Heavily.”

He's exaggerating, you know this. You've barely had a sip. It's not nearly enough to get you intoxicated. Not at this early into the after-hours. You still need to have a few more beverages before heading to your room for the night.

“Mister Aventurine, I am going to have to ask you to leave.” As he chuckles, your body instinctively reacts, possibly as a protective response. You wouldn’t blame it for acting this way, even under ordinary circumstances.

“I don’t think you’re in the right place to be making orders like that. Maybe if you worked for the IPC, but you’d have to work at the speed of light to get anything close to my ranking.” His hands slither from his sides to your glass, tilting it so he can see the dark yellow liquid within it. “Hmm. Do you not have a high alcohol tolerance, Miss [First]?”

“I do.” You rebuke. He shrugs his shoulders.

“I don’t think I should believe you, honestly.” With one of his hands, he takes off his pink sunglasses, putting them beside your cup. “Maybe if you drank the rest of it in one gulp.” With a slam, he puts a stack of credits on the table. “Go on, do it and I’ll give you enough credits to leave Penacony forever. I promise.”

Who are you to decline such an enticing proposition, despite your distaste for the man's company? This employment, with all its hardships, can vanish if you are simply granted the funds. Thus, you hastily consume the remainder of your beverage without deliberation.

You’re too focused on the bet at hand to notice the unusual saltiness.

With a wide grin, he applauds enthusiastically, his cheers echoing through the stillness. However, his clapping abruptly ceases, leaving behind an unexpected emptiness. In its place, a throbbing headache emerges, surpassing the intensity of any typical morning-after discomfort.

The fall into a state of unconsciousness is far from effortless; it feels more like a sudden, jarring blow to the face, sharp and agonizing.

“I’ll keep my word, that is a gambler's responsibility after all."

#author aya #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere honkai star rail x reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #yandere hsr #yandere aventurine #yandere aventurine x reader #aventurine x reader

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kisseobie · 2 months

Note

Hello🫣🫣 may I request p1harmony reaction to you wearing something short/revealing when going out clubbing? Thank youuu☺️☺️

p1harmony reacting to you wearing revealing clothes

pairings: ot6 p1harmony x reader

warnings: suggestive

tags: established relationships, clingy piwon, the boys are.. boys, clubbing, drinking (aged up for seobsoul), non idol au

a/n: it’s funny bc i was JUST reading an exact post like this a few minutes ago so anon if u were the same person who sent @ntoniac a request for the same thing i hope i can do it justice bc hers had me giggling and kicking my feet .. ANYWAYS! once again i apologize for slow updates i unfortunately am a student amidst a depressive episode soooooo it takes me a bit longer to write :( i hope u all can understand

𖧷 keeho

is honestly so cheesed. the type to insist to take pictures of you on his phone before you two actually make your way out, already mentally planning out which photo he’s gonna use in his next photo dump. is always super grabby with his hands, but its somehow amplified tonight. constantly has his arm lazily perched on your shoulder, and he often whispers cute little compliments into your ear every now and then. doesn’t really mind when people approach you to talk to you, doesn’t even necessarily care when said people make quick glances at your cleavage and the short length of your skirt. you two have an immense level of trust in your relationship, so he’s not one to feel insecure when people admire his girl. i can see kyo as the type to drag you onto the dance floor too, just so he can spin you around and feel your ass rub against the frontside of his jeans. eventually does end up posting those photos he took of you earlier on instagram, but not without captioning it something like “that’s all me”

𖧷 theo

doesn’t care about how short and tight your mini dress is, just wants it off of you by the end of the night. when you first skipped into the living room, beaming as you showed off your outfit of choice to him, theo had to hold himself back from kissing you silly. just like keeho, the simple concept of his girlfriend wearing a revealing outfit doesn’t make him super possessive, but he does make himself known to onlookers as your boyfriend in other ways, whether that be holding your drink and purse for you without you even asking him to, or sneaking up behind you to pepper kisses along your neck when your in the middle of conversation with someone. he makes his presence known but also wants to ensure that you have a carefree, enjoyable night without feeling like you have to tend to your boyfriend the entire time. taeyang definitely does admire your cleavage when he gets the chance too though, shamelessly stares at your chest and just giggles in reply when you scold him for doing so… loves to flirt with you even more than he usually does tbh

𖧷 jiung

is the overly possessive boyfriend that will whine and beg you to change. in reality, he doesn’t actually expect you to change your outfit, but lets you know (whilst pouting) that although you look hot and he wants to devour you, he also is very nervous about the unwanted attention you might get. it’s not a bad thing really! jiung just wants to be the only man that gets to see you in such a tiny top. although he might complain at first, you don’t miss the obvious blush on his face, silently signaling to you that he secretly loves when you dress this way. he’s not a very touchy person, but that doesn’t mean that he won’t interlock your fingers the entire night, even giving your hand gentle squeezes when you give someone else a little too much attention for his liking. glares at anyone who might whistle at you or even just look in your general vicinity for a bit too long. quickly shuts down offers himself from other guys that have the balls to ask you to dance. yeah, your not being let out of his sight looking that good. he’s just obsessed with you and wants you all to himself, sorry!

𖧷 intak

actually is the one who helps you pick out your outfit! tak himself wants to spend the night out showing off his beautiful girlfriend so he purposely convinces you to wear the shortest denim skirt you own, paired with an equally revealing spaghetti strap crop top. comes up behind you when your adjusting your outfit in the mirror to wrap his arms around your waist and perch his chin on your right shoulder, shooting down any concerns you might have about your outfit being kind of “whorish” (your words, not his!). is your personal hype man. you look good and he’s gonna make you feel good. loves to watch you on the dance floor from a nearby barstool, having the time of your life with your friends. after you’ve tired yourself out, you walk towards him to join him at the bar and he doesn’t miss the opportunity to eye your entire body from top to bottom and let out an obnoxious whistle. he’s sooooo sweet frat boy coded… definitely asks if he can take a body shot off of you whilst winking and you just roll your eyes in response. when he ends up drunk out of his mind and you have to drag him inside your shared cab, he’s mumbling the sweetest praises to you before he falls asleep against your shoulder

𖧷 soul

doesn’t really have much to say, but his body language speaks for itself. like most of piwon, his possessiveness is at a minimum, and like intak, he loves when you feel confident enough to dress this way. maybe it’s the introvert in him, but he lives vicariously through your bold outfit choices. loves to give you kisses on your exposed collarbone as he smoothens out a crease on your silk skirt. he also loves the way your stomach peeks out of your cropped top, and he holds onto your waist when kissing you to circle his thumbs on the area. stares at you lovingly the entire night, and doesn’t falter when your eyes meet every now and then. he comes up to you towards the end of the night and whispers into your ear about how he thinks you look so pretty and that he loves this outfit. you definitely end up seeing a more vocal side of him when the alcohol kicks in, and you swoon at how lovey dovey his words are. he just wants you to feel pretty and confident and he ends up succeeding in proving that to you! makes really bad attempts at flirting which ends up in the pair of you laughing your asses off. overall shota makes you feel beautiful and you make mental notes to bring him out wearing revealing clothes more often

𖧷 jongseob

djsjdkajdjsj i have to write my boyfriend as clingy as possible. he’s definitely the type of boyfriend to sit on the end of your bed, aimlessly scrolling on his phone and taking little peeks at you every now and then while your doing your makeup on your vanity. when you finish your makeup and go to your closet to change into the tiny little dress you’ve chosen for the evening, you’re honestly a bit nervous as to how your boyfriend will react to how bodycon and short the attire is, but you look and feel hot and that encourages you to step out in front of him. he notices your presence right away and looks up at your face, then chest, then thighs, and then turns off and tucks his phone into his back pocket and grabs at you to sit on his lap. gives you the sweetest kiss imaginable and pulls away to look at you with disbelief. asks you something along the lines of “how did i get so lucky?” and his hands run all over the material of your dress. his boldness is new but very welcome and he spends a good while complimenting you, asking you where you bought this dress, and playing with your hair with a smug grin on his face. gets soooo excited to take you out and wastes no time in calling an uber so he can show you off to the world. feels like he’s on cloud 9!

taglist: @woozixo @hearts4chanhee @kyokopi @astro-doll-the-star @soobiary @kyaaramello @t3ssamoodboard @angelcbf @idontknow-1s-world @vivienne-sim @elissasimp @imjustayapper @ihatewreckingballmains @theyluvsosa @seobing @www90kitsch @khfviq @barbiekh86t @bbyjjunie @taeyangi @fullsunstrawberry @jihnyah @intheemptymirror

𖧷 ₊ ° .

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niniluvsainz · 2 months

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sad beautiful tragic ☽ cs55

(5.1k words)

masterlist |

in which... falling out of love was both relieving and terrifying.

carlos sainz x wife!fem!reader

(PLEASE READ) warnings... pregnancy, falling out of love, angst, pregnancy symptoms, baby delivering, carlos is a dad, reader is a mom, no use of y/n, public marriage proposal, yelling, yelling in front of a child, ferrari, how is it a carlos fic without lando norris being the adoptive son, abortion mention, aggressive carlos, slamming hands on surface, slight unwanted pregnancy, divorce, confusing ending bcs its eleven pm and im sleepy, not proofread.

WHEN YOU AND CARLOS MET, it was unprepared and you were both two naive children. carlos was just jumpstarting his motorsport career, and while he was in england, he met you. it was a small moment, at a nightclub, but the moment he laid eyes on you he knew he had found his person. the spaniard didn't know that night, july ninth, would change his life forever.

you, in your elegant maroon dress, swaying your body to the beats echoing around the small room. he had offered to buy you a drink, and you, already one too many drinks in, could not reject a handsome young man's offer.

you exchanged numbers that same night, and promised to go out one day again. two weeks later, that promise was fulfilled.

"i hope you like sushi," carlos mentioned, opening your side of his car door. you smiled, as you both walked hand-in-hand into the luxurious restaurant.

after hours of getting to know each other over sushi, a few appetizers, and two bottles of wine, you both decided to give the relationship a try. of course, with his career came many different events for carlos to attend around the world, but when he would be back in england, he'd spend all his time with you.

when carlos was called to be promoted into formula one to join the scuderia toro rosso alongside max verstappen, you were the first one he called to deliver the news. the next week, carlos had flown in to england to celebrate with you. you had both celebrated in multiple ways, and in one of those particular occasions, you became pregnant.

the symptoms began lightly, you became dizzy very frequently, and it wasn't until you could not take the sickness anymore that you went for a doctor visit.

when you heard the phrase, congratulations--you are six weeks pregnant, the pit in your stomach enlarged. how would you tell carlos? would he want to be a father? were you ready to be a mother? you didn't know who to tell, you felt alone. your parents were not in the picture, so you were actually and completely alone.

carlos was in italy, preparing for his formula one debut, and he would not be coming to visit you in two weeks. those two weeks were absolute misery, you couldn't pass down food, you'd felt horrible. when carlos arrived in your house, you tried applying makeup to hide the hollowness in your cheeks and how your warm skin tone had faded. however, carlos immediately noticed, including the drastic weight loss on your body.

"amor, what happened?" carlos had concern laced in his tone and features, holding you delicately as he pulled away from the welcome embrace. carlos' eyes scanned over you, as you tried to swallow the breakdown climbing up.

"let's go sit, please." you whispered, motioning to your couch. carlos had a million thoughts run through his head, all leading to different outcomes.

"i'm pregnant; eight weeks." you paused for a few seconds to register carlos' reaction.

being pregnant was not on carlos' mental list.

carlos' body language said it all, according to you. the slight arm hold loosening, his body slightly jerking away, and his eyes--oh, the eyes you grew to love and adore, now you could see the numerous emotions flooding him.

before he could say anything, you spoke first. "listen, i understand if you do not want to keep this baby. but, i made my decision, and i'm keeping it. i'm not going to force you to be in the baby's life, because i understand having a baby right now when the most important part of your career is just about to start--" carlos leaned in and placed his lips on yours. the tears began falling to your cheeks, staining his own.

when he pulled away, he stared deeply into your eyes. "corazon, you just made me become the happiest man alive. i love you." a smile formed on your lips, before you embraced him tightly. you clung to him for dear life, happy and relieved you wouldn't be alone in this after all.

"i can speak with my family, my mother and sisters can help you. but, you would most likely have to move to spain with me." carlos explained, releasing from the hug. "oh," was all you could mutter.

you had never seen past britain, it's always been home to you. but you knew if you wanted help you couldn't do it alone. "wouldn't you think it's kind of weird, that the first time i'm meeting your family it's because i'm pregnant with your child?" you asked, nervousness beginning to bubble in your stomach.

"no," carlos immediately answered. "i was thinking either way of taking you to meet my family during my time here, so they are expecting you, and they're really excited to meet you." carlos reassured. you nodded with a small smile. with one last look, carlos got up and headed to the kitchen.

"what are you going to do?" you asked, facing the direction he walked. carlos began grabbing pans out of your cabinet and multiple ingredients.

"i'm going to make sure my girlfriend and little carlitos are well fed. now, what are you craving?"

when you knew your baby would be on the way, you were actually on a boat with ana and blanca, carlos' sisters. you felt the painful kicks, and immediately told both sisters. the first thing they did was tell the boat to turn back to shore as fast as humanly possible, and then they called carlos, who was with his parents. you don't know how, but you truly believe a higher power was helping you. you blacked out for everything, and it wasn't until you regained consciousness again that you were being given your baby into your arms. carlos was right beside you, staring down at your newborn child. he was crying, just as you were. "it's little carlitos." you whispered, looking up at carlos with a large smile on your face.

carlitos seemed to grow very quickly in your eyes. you were eternally grateful for carlos sr and reyes, for being the most loving grandparents for your baby. they both took you in and treated you just like their own blood, "como una verdadera familia." (like a real family.) ana and blanca became close to you, and were the aunts that would spoil every little dime for carlitos.

carlos, of course, was the best father ever. you will admit, both of you walked into parenthood not knowing almost anything, but with the help of carlos' family, you both learned. you had decided to not yet accompany carlos to his formula one races, as you did not want carlitos out with the media at such a young age. carlos understood your reasoning, but you both were always supporting him by the television screen.

birthday celebrations were surrounded by friends and family, and carlitos was over the moon when he would see all the candy, piñatas, and colorful decor around the backyard of the sainz home.

a few weeks before carlitos turned three, you noticed carlos being very suspicious. you would catch him in his own lies, but decided on not commenting anything. instead, you tried speaking to ana and blanca but they would just divert your concerns to something relating to carlitos, and you would always fall for the trap, because you loved everything about your son.

of course you were not knowing what was about to come when carlos had simply invited you out to dinner. carlitos had stayed with reyes and carlos sr, the couple claiming they were wanting to spend quality time with their grandson.

it was a lovely dinner with carlos, as it had been quite a while since it was you two without carlitos around. your waiter had come to receive the check, but before leaving he informed you two, "there's a live band on the other side of the restaurant if you would like to enjoy some live music." you looked at carlos, a sparkling glint in your eye. carlos chuckled, and he got up from his chair, extending out a hand for you to grab.

you both walked towards the back of the restaurant that would oversee the city of madrid. the band, who was playing soothingly, added to the nice touch where one would stare out to the beautiful city and be able to listen to a calming tune.

“corazón,” carlos said beside you. you turned to look at him, only to see his gorgeous brown eyes staring at you with admiration. you smiled, and carlos cleared his throat before glancing down at the ground. he only looked back up to the band and gave them a slight nod, before getting down on one knee. he reached for his pocket, and you quickly glanced around your surroundings to see clients of the restaurant begin to take notice of what was about to happen in front of them.

the band’s music quieted down; you were sure carlos left them the notice in advance. your lips parted in shock, as you stared down at him. “mi vida, you are the love of my life. you have given me the gift of becoming a father to our son. i love you more than words and actions can describe,” carlos paused for a moment, as he saw you beginning to release tears from the corner of your eyes. he knew you hated ruining your makeup because of crying.

when carlos opened the small box he had put into view a few moments ago and positioned it in front of him to display to you, you felt the entire world stop for this one moment.

carlos said your full name, it sounded quite unnatural since he's only ever called you loving nicknames. "i'm already the happiest man right now, but will you add to that happiness and marry me?"

you nodded your head yes immediately and grabbed both his hands, helping him stand up and leaning in to meet your lips with his. the clapping sound surrounded you both as well as cheering sounds, but you paid no mind as you had everything you've cared for right in front of you.

once separated from the loving kiss, you opened your eyes to see carlos placing the gorgeous engagement ring on your finger, and you looked up as you saw the entire family standing feet away from you two. the tears from your eyes were uncontrollable, your emotions all over the place.

carlitos, only having a few months experienced in walking, wattled over to you and carlos. carlos picked his son up, and you placed a small kiss on carlitos' hand.

the family walked towards your own, congratulating you and carlos. "you knew, didn't you?" you asked blanca and ana. they both giggled, and you shook your head laughing. this is what family was. and you were so unbelievably happy you had won the lottery in that department.

the wedding came months later. it was a beautiful reception. a few of carlos' colleagues in formula one were invited. it was a wedding in december, so you and carlos would have enough time for your honeymoon before he would be back in racing. he was given his biggest opportunity yet in formula one, being promoted to drive in mclaren by the upcoming season.

both you and carlos agreed you wanted to expand your tiny family by adding another member. and by the time carlos had begun his new formula one season, you were already confirmed to be expecting.

being a mother in waiting is not pretty. you had gone through this process once with carlitos, and going through it again one would expect for it to go smoother, but it was just as difficult. this was all motherhood, was your motivation to keep going. for you, your husband, your son and your new baby on the way.

carlitos understood many things, including the fact he was going to become a big brother. when asked if he wanted a brother or a sister, he always answered he wanted "una pequeña hermanita." (a little sister.) you had also encouraged the entire family to speak spanish to carlitos so he would be fluent in both english and spanish.

your second child arrived during a very special event in spain. dia de los muertos (day of the dead.), to be exact. carlos was not with you, as he was halfway across the world in austin, texas.

you were with carlos sr and reyes, and they both took great care of you. ana and blanca took care of carlitos while you were in the hospital. you asked both in-laws to please do not tell carlos, as you thought this could completely flood his mind and he would not do good in the race.

your second child, camilo, was delivered on the second of november. if you were not mistaken, this day was the day of qualifying for carlos. and no way in hell would you ever call him for him to go ballistic and fuck it all up. and that's how it went. carlos did not hear from any of the family for the entire weekend, and even going into the next race. you did not want to tell him over the phone his newborn son was born. you didn't think he would take it so far, but he did.

after the brazilian grand prix, carlos was going back to spain to you. he would have a week and then he would fly to abu dhabi for the final race of the season. camilo was two and a half weeks already, and looked like the carbon copy of carlos. carlitos had more of your own features, but if someone were to definitely see camilo they would immediately recognize carlos sainz jr as the father.

when carlos arrived, you were putting camilo to sleep. carlitos promised to wait for his papi in the living room of your recently purchased family home. you didn't hear when carlos arrived, so when you heard the door of your shared bedroom open and you heard your husband's voice behind you say your name, you were startled and quickly turned around, not forgetting camilo was still in your arms.

"is camilo asleep?" carlitos asked in a hushed whisper. you turned around and placed your newborn son in his crib, before placing his blankets over him, and turning on the baby monitor.

"yes, he just fell asleep." you responded to your son's question. carlos' eyes were burning your skin, and you couldn't dare to look him in the eye. you even flinched when carlos spoke, but not to you.

"campeón, why don't you go to your room, i need to speak with mamá first. and then you can show me your new balón de fútbol." you pursed your lips before carlitos turned his head to look at you for reassurance, which you gave with a small smile and nod, and seconds later carlitos left to his own room happily skipping down the hall.

once carlos was sure his son was out of hearing distance, his attention was brought back to you. "i find out by my son, as soon as i walk through the door, that you had the baby?" carlos asked cautiously. his tone was neutral, but you felt the argument begin to approach. "you didn't even call to let me know?"

you took a deep breath before answering. "i didn't want you to find out over the phone, and you weren't going to be here because of your races."

carlos let out a scoff and rolled his eyes. "i had the right to know was son was born the minute someone had a hold of a phone at that hospital." his tone was aggressive, but not loud to wake up camilo or let carlitos hear.

"i didn't want you to mess up your races because i was having the baby and you wouldn't be around," you tried explaining. if it wasn't for camilo sleeping, carlos would be yelling right now.

"no, i would be flying back because i would want to see my wife and be there for her and for our new child!" carlos began whisper-yelling as he motioned to the sleeping baby behind you.

"i'm--i'm sorry, carlos. i thought i was doing what was best for you--" you were cut off by carlos' following words. "how do you know what's best for me? what's best was, knowing i had a son the second he arrived. i would have come back, and taken care of you and our sons. where the hell did you leave carlitos in all of this?" he asked, his face turning red from the anger he was projecting.

"he stayed with your sisters." you whispered, looking down. carlos nodded his head slowly before scoffing again. "when i could've been there!" he countered. you looked up to meet his gaze. "okay, but it happened! it's over, we can't erase time."

carlos stayed quite for a few moments, as if thinking his thoughts through. the argument was immature; of course on some parts you were wrong by not letting carlos know immediately, but carlos immediately went to argue instead of seeing his newborn baby for the first time.

carlos walked over to you and looked down at the sleeping child. you stared at the small interaction between both father and son, as carlos slowly gave camilo his pointer finger, to which the child, even sleeping, gripped the finger.

"he looks just like you," you whispered, staring between your husband and son. the corner of carlos' lips turned upwards, non-verbally agreeing with your statement.

"i'm sorry for the argument," carlos whispered, as he began carefully caressing camilo's head, which surprisingly had already a lot of hair.

"i should be the one apologizing. i wasn't thinking about anyone but myself in the moment." you muttered. camilo's grip on carlos' finger loosened, and he stepped back from the crib to embrace you into his arms. you hugged back tightly, in the end happy your husband was back with you to complete your growing family.

when the worldwide pandemic came about in the beginning of 2020, you were worried for carlos. worried how exposed he was to the sickness. that was until, the formula one season would be postponed until further notice. therefore, carlos went back to spain and although he was still staying in shape and training for when the season would resume, he also took this time to cherish the family bonding with his wife and two sons.

there were small moments, whether it would be playing fútbol with carlitos, both father and son teaching baby camilo how to play, but a baby can only watch. in carlitos' words, "when camilo is older we can team up and score the goals." you would be cooking, feeding your family, having movie nights, or even sometimes when the children would go to sleep early, you and carlos would cook a dinner for the both of you. it was these moments that made you cherish life.

in may, carlos was in talks with a new formula one team seeking him. carlos had accepted the deal, and it was a family celebration when he announced he would be driving for the scarlet red team next season, scuderia ferrari.

however, because of this, another person joined your family. and not in the way you thought. no, carlos' best friend, lando norris. you had not interacted much with the brit, but he seemed like a very funny guy based on interviews and crazy stories your husband would mention.

what lando norris decided, was that he would stay in your house for about a month before he would depart from his 'best mate.' staying as a house guest would later come to mean having another child and baby-ing him. the stay turned to two months, as lando also stayed to celebrate christmas, before he departed to his family for new years. lando meeting carlitos and camilo was wholesome, the brit would teach carlitos about golf, while camilo --who had began walking when he turned a year old-- would waddle the golf balls back to lando and carlitos, as this was his own way of playing with the two.

by the end of lando's stay, he was exclusively "uncle" or "tio lando" to carlitos. and lando spoiled the hell out of carlitos and camilo for christmas.

the 2021 formula one season brought many changes, one including carlos finally convinced you to attend a race. carlitos was not on your side either, as he has wanted to see his papa driving fast cars. it was three against one (as when camilo was also asked if he wanted to attend a race with carros, he would smile and laugh, which father and son took as a yes). you flew to bahrain with carlos and your two sons, and were actually entertained by everything going on in the paddock. carlos' new teammate, charles leclerc, was in awe of your children. carlos never talked about having a wife or even children, so your family entrance definitely turned heads from all around. you spent most of your time with your children, and sometimes accompanied by charles leclerc's girlfriend, charlotte, who also adored your children from the moment she saw them. your little family was cheering on for carlos in red the entire weekend.

however, as the year went by, you felt a shift. of course, family bonding was still there. you tried to hide it, but you felt a change when you were with your husband. sometimes you shrugged off the feeling, not wanting to think too much about it, but you knew. even if it wasn't spoken, your love for carlos had diminished. you almost felt empty inside at times, and maybe you blamed it on how back to back you had children and now that they're growing you just feel the nostalgia. this is what led you to ask your husband in the middle of the night the question.

"do you want to have another baby?"

carlos had turned his head toward you, staring deeply into your eyes. he held the eye contact for a few moments before responding. "i think we are perfectly well with carlitos and camilo, don't you think?"

"but wouldn't you like another one, carlitos keeps asking for a sister," you chuckled. "and our family will be complete."

"our family's already complete," carlos stated in a tone that projected, the conversation's over.

you nodded with a smile that didn't reach your eyes, before kissing his cheek and bidding goodnight. you turned on your side and closed your eyes, not another word spoken for the night. nights where you two would stay up until the next morning, whether it be to feed or change diapers, lay tangled in each other's arms, or just talk nonsense, too delirious to understand what the other would be speaking about. those nights were now a kiss goodnight, or just laying by each other and not speaking a word at all until you two would fall asleep, centimeters separating you both.

attending the grand prix's became a more regular thing, your boys always happy to be following their father, and you always cheering on your husband.

because carlos' good friend, max verstappen, had won his first world championship, he invited you both to celebrate. that night, both you and carlos had too much to drink, and weren't thinking of your decisions.

a month later, you're pregnant again.

carlos said he did not want another child, but what did you want? it was an innocent child's life, one who didn't even have an opportunity to see and experience the world.

you decided on telling carlos over dinner (the good thing is that tradition hasn't ended yet), and you were terrified to see his reaction.

"when did you find out?" carlos asked, taking a sip of his wine. "earlier this morning, i went to the doctor." you answered, trying to rub the sweat off your palms on your pants. "she said i was a month in."

of course, the night of max's celebration. that's the most recent time you have had sex, and before that it had been almost eight.

"i know you said you didn't want another baby, but carlos--" you were cut off by your husband slightly slamming his hands on the table, making you flinch. "you're pregnant, and now we move on with the pregnancy until the baby is born." he got up from the table and grabbed empty plates and silverware before taking them to the washing sink.

"goodnigtht." carlos said before departing to your shared bedroom. you stayed still in your seat, processing what you heard. one thing you were sure of, this baby was not wanted by its father.

the news was later given to your sons that they would become big brothers soon. carlitos jumped up and down in excitement, while camilo, still learning to understand words, only smiled widely.

nine months later, and you had a baby girl. carlos, someway between seven and eight months into the pregnancy, was deciding on girl names. you had chipped in that you wanted a 'c' name, as both your sons had one, so it would be neat if your daughter also had one. after much thought and debating, you both settled for carla. carlos sr and reyes helped calm the debate.

luckily, carlos was home for carla's birth. carlitos and camilo were with their grandparents, but carlitos had insisted he wanted to see his little sister before anyone.

when you and carlos arrived with carla back home, carlitos immediately wanted to hold her, while camilo was staring at her like she was an alien.

over time, carlos and you continued to try to make the family functional. but it started crumbling down, and you knew it was a matter of time.

your daughter was more difficult than how carlitos and camilo had been, so at some instances in the middle of the night carlos would get up from the bed while you were feeding carla and go sleep in the guest bedroom.

you took carla to the paddock earlier in age than you did with your sons. carlos insisted you accompany him, and to bring the entire family. you didn't want to, as carla was still small. but carlos begged and insisted.

the beginning of the 2023 year did not go as you thought it would. you tried hard, you really did, to keep your family in one stand. but carlos wasn't helping.

you tried showing you were a happy family to your children, because you did not want them to go through what you did. which is what made your parents divorce and leave you in the middle of it. you did not want that for your family.

your routine was now: wake up, feed the kids, do chores, feed the kids again, maybe go visit reyes and carlos sr, and if carlos was home take the kids to play, go to sleep. no more traditions, no more nothing.

you weren't happy anymore. you saw carlos wasn't either. it was just routine at this point.

when carlos got the call he was no longer driving at ferrari, he isolated himself. he didn't speak to you, he ignored the children, even his parents. you would be folding laundry and he'd come out of the guest room (which was now declared his) to see if there was food. you would just start cooking after you finished laundry, but he wasn't patient.

"the food isn't ready?!" he would ask agitated. you swallowed hard, not wanting to cry and seem weak. "i'll get started on it in a bit, let me just finish folding these clothes and--"

you would stop speaking because he would grab a jacket and the car keys, and leave without another word. carlitos would be the one to come out of his room, and ask if you were okay.

"yes, i am. dad just went for a pizza." you smiled. carlitos would jump in delight, before running to tell his siblings in the other room. you would grab your phone and order pizza delivery.

2024 was the year you were just exhausted. and the last turning point was after carla's second birthday party. you had both agreed to celebrate her birthday a week before, as carlos would be in baku for a race weekend on her actual day.

the whole day, carlos didn't show up. he didn't show up to his daughter's birthday at all. when you called numerous times, it would send to voicemail. you asked ana and blanca, even his parents, to contact him. it was carlos sr who he answered to. he was training, not even knowing his daughter was waiting for him.

when carlos arrived home well after the party had ended, you didn't direct a word to him.

carlos called out your name. "look, i'm sorry, okay?" you stopped washing the dishes and scoffed looking his way.

"you are apologizing to me? it's your daughter you dissapointed!" you yelled. you knew the children would hear, but that wasn't your current thought process at the moment.

"and i'm just, i'm sick of it all! i'm sick of excuses, i'm sick of you pushing me away, i'm sick of not being good enough for anything anymore!" you aggressively wiped your hands on a towel, before wiping your tear-filled eyes.

"what do you want me to do? be happy when i'm clearly not? fake a happy family when it's far from that?" the last statement was like a puncture to your breaking heart.

all you wanted, was a happy and loving family. you had it for a while, but now that was over. and maybe if you wanted to continue being happy, you had to step away this time.

"i can't be with you anymore." you spit out. carlos widened his eyes, your statement hitting him like a rock. "what?" he managed to blurt out.

"i can't pretend to be a happy family anymore. i won't."

your lawyer grabbed your arm lightly. "hey, are you okay?" he asked, snapping you out of your thoughts. you blinked and nodded your head.

the judge had decided both you and carlos would share custody of your children. two weeks, they would be with you, the other two carlos would have them. you and carlos would still interact and would need to have 'family bonding' once every month with the children. carla would be the only exception, as until she is five years old she would be able to stay with carlos.

it would be hard learning outside a life you had always known, but you had your children to motivate you. you had supporters, who at the end of the day were your family.

it was a sad, beautiful, tragic love story. one you learned, cried, and were both happy and sad in.

author's note: OH MY GOSH. anyways hope y'all like it mwah. as inspo i was listening to sad beautiful tragic, all too well, tolerate it, and you're not sorry. i definitely prefer smau better than written fics, so expect more of those soonnnn

#f1 imagines #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #f1 imagine #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz jr #scuderia ferrari #f1 fic #f1 fanfic

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skzdarlings · 3 months

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mine ; lee minho x reader

original ask: requested by @tattywood. “Can you please do ❛ you're mine. you've always been mine. ❜ with Lee Know? I just know you’ll come up with something amazing! 🩶"

pairing: lee minho/reader content info: another pair of star-crossed lovers lol. reader is kissed by a different guy without her permission. possessive sex. unsafe sex. lots of biting and marking and grabbing. word count: 3700 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

You finally escape.

When the date is over and your supposed boyfriend leaves, you run out the back door. Your parents are distracted, waving goodbye to your boyfriend as he pulls away in his expensive car. They chat between themselves on the front porch of the family estate.

“Such a remarkable young man,” they say. “So wholesome. So intelligent.“

So rich, is what they really mean. Because he is not wholesome; he is a bully and a bigot at the best of times. He derides anyone he deems beneath him, which is just about everyone. He is also not intelligent, as true depth of intellect is revealed in conduct. Someone that cruel and ignorant is not intelligent. You have engaged in more stimulating discourse with birds.

But he is wealthy. Your parents picked him for you and have been forcing the relationship along, contriving dates without telling you he will be there, inviting him into your home, encouraging his empty and shallow affection. You encourage nothing, sitting stiffly whenever he touches you: an arm slung around your waist, a hand on your lower back, a kiss on the cheek.

Maybe you were naïve to think it would not escalate before its time, that you could bear it cordially until his interest withered and died. Foolish. He is not here for you but your name. He does not care how you feel. He does not care if you want him. He wants the money and connections and power, sharing a bed with your parents through you.

Today he cornered you when you were alone. He backed you into the wall and kissed you. An unwanted kiss is a disgustingly slimy thing, all tongue and teeth and the bad, unfamiliar taste of a vile man’s breath.

Your whole unlived life flashed in your mind’s eye. Every second was irredeemably awful.

So you run. Out the back door, to the garage, weaving around your father’s cars. Your old bike is hooked on its rack and you lift it down with some grunting effort. You are dressed for a date, wearing a pristine ivory dress your mother picked, white lace stockings, and delicate flats. It is not the ideal outfit for riding a bike. It is a pretty but flimsy thing. Summer nights are warm but there is a crisp breath on the wind as the sun sets.

But if you stop for even a second, even just to change clothes, even just to catch your breath, then you will never get away.

You swing onto your bike and escape via the back lane. It is a long ride across town but your adrenaline propels you onward.

It is very obvious when you have crossed into new territory. Across the park trail and over the railroad tracks is a different world. The houses get smaller, more ramshackle, junk piled around the fully abandoned abodes. Even the lived-in homes have old trucks and rusted goods stacked on their lawns. It is a consequence of impoverished anxiety, hoarding in fear of one day having nothing.

Indeed, a very different part of town.

Your parents are probably furious they cannot find you, but they will assume you ran to a nearby friend’s house. If they knew where you really were, which friend you went to see, they would surpass furious and venture all the way into horror.

But they are far away now.

You feel nothing but relief as the air changes. You know it is the chill of a summer night as the sky turns blue, but it convinces you the air is clearer. You exhale and feel as though you are releasing a breath that you have been holding all day.

Your journey takes you to a familiar yard. You remember the first time you ever visited, standing so small and uncertain on the front steps, waiting for a kiss you actually wanted.

A kiss that never came.

You park your bike against the side of the house. You walk up the front steps on shaky legs, weak from speedy riding.

You open the screen door to knock on the inside door. While you wait for an answer, you fiddle with your appearance, adjusting any evidence of wind-swept dishevelment.

Oh, you are so nervous. You were so hellbent on just getting here, you did not register any feeling beyond determination. But now you are standing on this porch in your flimsy white dress, the sun set, the day done. You are doing something you should have done a long, long time ago and suddenly fearing you are far, far too late.

No answer comes. You knock again.

Your stomach forms a pit you hope you will eat you whole. Is he ignoring you? No. The windows are shut, the blinds closed. He cannot even see you.

You take a step back. Even with everything sealed shut, you should be able to see a hint of light. The house is small, a single story. There are only so many places he could be.

He isn’t home, you realize, first with relief that he is not ignoring you, then with dejection. Of course he’s not home, you tell yourself. What were you even thinking? Silly girl. Riding all the way out here, expecting him to be sitting around and waiting for you. He has a life of his own. He probably doesn’t even think about you. You’re pathetic.

You know you are being a little melodramatic. Your emotions have been running at an extreme all day. They finally become too much to bear. You sit down on the steps and cry.

Some time passes. You eventually calm yourself enough to wipe your eyes. You feel the cold more acutely now, wrapping your arms around yourself for warmth.

You are not sure what to do now. You refuse to go home, knowing what awaits you. You have nowhere else to go. Your future is murky, which is still more comforting than the vision of it when your boyfriend forcibly kissed you.

You sigh. You know if you wait long enough, your friend will come home and help you. Even if he doesn’t want you, even if he can be a bit standoffish at times, he has the warmest heart you know. You met doing volunteer work, in fact. You know he will help you like he would help anyone in need.

It does not mean you do not feel pathetic, curled up and shivering on his porch steps. You are debating a course of action when a truck rolls into the yard with a flash of headlights and a noticeably hiccupping engine. It pulls around the side of the house.

You stand and take tentative steps to follow. You are still and quiet as the rough rumble of the truck comes to a wheezy stop.

The driver door flies open. He jumps out, cursing. Your breath catches and all your hypotheticals dissipate in wake of the reality of him.

Lee Minho.

He is wearing his old, dusty leather jacket, something of a signature piece due its reliability. His jeans are torn at the knee, likely a legitimate tear and not a fashion statement, his old work boots a bit scuffed. He is a working man of limited means and nothing functional goes to waste.

He is beautiful as ever. Dark hair falls across his forehead and he pushes it back with a forceful rake, the softer pieces fluttering forward again. He has an athletic frame, but delicate features despite his near-perpetual scowl. When he does laugh, it is a hilariously boisterous sound.

He is scowling right now. Cursing to himself as he stomps around the beat-up truck. He wears a carabiner with a bundle of emergency tools, grabbing a miniature flashlight to guide his way. He props open the hood and starts rustling around inside. He curses again, then he puts the light away so he can reach inside with both hands.

You do not mean to startle him. You thought he might have seen you, observant as he is, but apparently the truck has him distracted.

“Minho,” you say.

You cannot see him too well in the dark, but you hear the distinctive thud of metal as he undoubtedly smacks his head on the open hood. He curses louder this time.

There is a small light on the side of the house. You step towards it at the same time.

He is rubbing the back of his head, frowning, but he comes to a total stop when he sees you. His eyes widen ever so slightly, his brows drawn in confusion. He stares intently at you.

“Hi,” you say.

He just keeps staring.

“Um. I was just in the neighbourhood,” you say. “I wanted to see you. I hope you’re doing well.”

He drops his arm and it swings at his side. He continues to stare at you, the furrow in his brow more intense.

“Right,” you say. You feel a catch in the back of your throat. Fortunately, you have cried all your tears and will not make a fool of yourself in front of him. More of a fool, that is. You want to say so many things but you cannot think of a single word that suffices.

I missed you so much, you think. I think about you every day. Have you thought about me?

It sounds so clingy and pathetic. Your boyfriend derides such women and their neediness. Minho is not a man like that, though. He has never spoken so disparagingly about someone. You know that, but the words catch nonetheless.

You exhale a shaky breath, looking aside at nothing.

“I’m sorry,” you finally say. “I probably shouldn’t have come here. It’s been months since we last spoke. I know we’re not really friends anymore. I just had no where else to go and I…”

“You were crying,” he says.

You look at him. His expression has not softened. It is still that same scrutinizing stare. His gaze is intently locked on yours, on eyes that must show the evidence of your crying.

You wipe your face quickly, embarrassed. Your gaze lifts when he takes a small step towards you. He reaches for you, as if he means to wipe your eyes himself, but then he catches the sight of his own hand, covered in black grease from the truck.

“Shit,” he says, and snaps his arm back.

“Minho,” you say, your heart fluttering just from the suggestion he was going to touch you. A small touch from him means more than anything.

“Princess,” he says, an old affectionate nickname for you, though he speaks it rather dryly. He is still frowning. “Are you hurt?”

“Maybe,” you say. When he reacts physically, his shoulders stiffening, you quickly add, “Not like that. Emotionally, I mean. I just… I think I ran away from home.”

“You think,” he says flatly.

“Well, I didn’t really think it through, to be honest,” you say shyly. “I just… I couldn’t stay there anymore. You know what they’re like.”

He flinches as if the memory comes with a strike. You feel embarrassed, remembering too.

You and Minho became fast friends through your mutual volunteer efforts. You thought nothing of inviting him to a neighbourhood party at your parents’ house. He wore his nicest shirt and fresh pants, but as soon as everyone found out where he came from, they wanted nothing to do with him.

You are embarrassed to say you did not even notice at first, naively taking politeness for granted. He had to explain it to you, then you saw their two-facedness everywhere and felt horrible.

You stayed on his side of town after that, at least until your parents put their foot down. They didn’t want you developing feelings for that kind of boy. You insisted he was just a friend, even while already in love with him. His biting wit and good heart had you in thrall.

You were in denial about your parents being bad people. You wanted to believe they had your best interest at heart. They were just set in their ways. They wanted a good life for you. You told Minho to just give them time. He let you go. They introduced you to your new boyfriend the next day.

Minho takes a breath. He shoves his tongue into his cheek, looking pensive. You are thinking of something to say when he nods his head.

“You look cold,” he says frankly. “Let’s go inside.”

You nod, following him to the front steps. He grabs the porch rail and jumps the steps in an effortless swing. You shuffle behind him while he unlocks the door.

He says nothing, just nods at you. You follow him through, closing the door while he bends down to unlace his boots. He kicks them to the side while you step softly out of your flats. When you meet each other’s eyes, you feel a spark.

You stood in this very spot a few months ago, almost nose to nose, arguing about your parents and what to do. You knew, deep in your heart, the conversation was not about a mere friendship. You both had stronger feelings, but you were both scared to act on them given your precarious circumstance. He did not want to risk everything while you were indecisive. You wanted to keep everything.

You have lived a life of great privilege and you are used to getting everything you want. You have had to confront reality, that you cannot always have everything.

So, if you can only have one thing, you want him.

He looks at you with the same dark passion as then. Your heart skips beats under his intense gaze.

“You’re here,” he says. Maybe the same memories flicker through his mind. He tips his head, looking at you so closely, like he cannot believe you are real.

“Yes,” you say softly, clasping your hands in front of you. “I’m here.”

“To stay,” he says.

“If you’ll have me,” you reply. Your heart is beating so hard, it is a wonder he cannot hear it. Your legs feel even weaker than before, but this time is has nothing to do with bicycles and everything to do with him.

He swallows, his throat bobbing. He sniffs and looks aside while idly tugging his jacket.

“And your boyfriend?” he says, glaring at the far wall.

Your heart sinks. It is your turn to swallow.

“You know about that?” you ask.

He laughs, not that gleeful sound you know but a sharp cackle. He looks at you incredulously.

“Of course I know,” he says. “I don’t always stay on my side of the tracks. Sometimes,” he speaks with sarcastic wonder, “I get to repair houses for the pretty rich people.” He huffs, shaking his head. “It’s fine,” he says. “You should be with someone like that. He’ll give you the house. The car. I bet your parents love him too.”

“I don’t want those things,” you say, bearing his bitterness because you understand what he is feeling. You lift your chin and look him in the eye. “You’re right, my parents do love him. But I don’t. He’s shallow and unkind. And you—” Your voice catches. “You, Lee Minho, are anything but that. You are everything. And I… I love you. I always have.” You drop your eyes with this confession, suddenly overwhelmed with the sheer emotion pouring out of his gaze. “I know it’s been a while,” you say. “I don’t expect you to have waited for me. I just—”

He laughs again. It is still dry, but not so sharp. You glance at him.

“Princess,” he says. “Don’t tell me you seriously think I could just forget about you.” He shakes his head. “It’s like you don’t even know me. I should kick you out just for that.”

You realize he is joking, the faintest hint of something warm melting his scowl.

“I can’t give you that life,” he says seriously.

You step towards him, holding his gaze, pouring as much emotion back at him. He exhales, blinking quickly, long lashes fluttering as he looks at you.

“I have no idea what we’re gonna do,” you admit. “But I know I want to figure it out. With you. And no one else.”

He smiles and it makes you smile. Then he reaches for you, but stops when he once more remembers his dirty hands.

“Shit,” he says again, then takes a step back. “Let me just—”

You take him by the wrist and yank him towards you. He follows your guidance, his breath catching when you plant his hand on your hip. It will leave a big black stain on your perfect white dress, the shape of his hand in a possessive grip on your body.

It is more effective than any word. He swoops in and kisses you, his other hand cupping your other hip with the same deliberate possessiveness. You are certain this horrid little gown will be destroyed and you do not care one bit. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back.

“You’re cruel,” he says between kisses. “Torturing me for so long. I wanted to kill that man. But I thought he made you happy—”

“He disgusted me,” you say. “He kissed me without my permission today.”

“What.” That stops the kiss and he looks at you with that scowl again. “I’ll kill him,” he says without any hesitation.

You just laugh a gentle laugh, shaking your head. You twist a longer tuft of his hair around your finger, making his tense shoulders go soft as he leans in.

“You don’t have to kill him,” you say. “Just make me forget him.”

Oh, Lee Minho is such an awful tease all the time. Of course he goes back to just staring at you with a contemplative air, making you wriggle and wonder in his arms. You whine his name, trying to kiss him, but he dodges it. Your whimpering makes him laugh, because of course it does.

Then he gets very serious. Your heart sends a bolt of heat shooting through your body. Your thighs press together.

He presses his forehead to yours. You gasp when you feel his fingers on your back, the careful slow touch as he tugs your zipper down. The flimsy dress slides off your body as he steps back to look at you. You shiver, gazing back at him. His stare is unflinching as he peels off his jacket and tosses it aside. His hands are already much cleaner, the distinctive print of his palms still plastered to your dress. He wipes the rest on his own shirt then tugs it off and tosses it to the side.

He smirks and wiggles two come hither fingers at you, walking backwards. You follow him slowly, then give chase when he cackles and runs. You follow him into the bedroom where he literally sweeps you off your feet.

“And you say I’m cruel,” you tease.

He closes the door with a firm snap then leans you against it.

“You are,” he says. He looks down your body while running his fingers through his hair. “You are.”

Then he gets on his knees, first one while he tugs your panties down, then the other, when he hooks your leg over his shoulder and put his mouth on you. He does not tease anymore, swiftly finding all the ways to make you moan his name. You are scared your leg will buckle under you when he makes you come, but he holds you steady.

Then he stands up and cups your face, kissing you deeply, making you taste yourself on his tongue. It is a good kiss, everything a kiss should be, hot and hungry, slow and deep. It makes you tingle with aftershocks, blinking at him with delirious pleasure when he pulls back.

Minho can be loud, can be boisterous, can be scathing. He can also speak gently, in such a soft, light rasp. It makes your head spin. He speaks like that now.

“This is how it is,” he says, then kisses you again, licks into your mouth. When you moan, he moans back. “I make you sigh,” he says. “I make your pussy wet. I make you come. Just me.”

“Yes,” you nod, clinging to him when he carries you to the bed. “You, Minho.”

He lays you down, kneeling between your open legs. They are still quivering from your orgasm. He looks at you, hungrily, while opening his belt. He rips it out of his jeans and tosses it behind him, then unzips while leaning down to kiss you. He dives past your waiting mouth to kiss your throat, biting marks under your jaw, on your neck, on your tits. You grab his head, hands in his hair, arching your back under his desperate mouth.

“You’re mine,” he says. “You’ve always been mine.”

He holds your hips while thrusting inside you. You imagine his hands leaving a permanent mark, just like that stained dress, a claiming that forever marks you as his. He fucks you so steadily and deeply, holding you possessively, gasping your name and how good you feel while he takes you.

“Perfect,” he says in that dreamy voice, rubbing you softly while fucking you hard. It makes you come around his cock, clenching tight, which makes him moan into your mouth. “Mine.”

You wrap your legs around him. You lay chest-against-chest, holding each other. Your nails scratch his back, no doubt leaving your own marks, your whole body littered with his kisses and bites. There is not a single inch of you that is not branded by him.

“Yes,” you say. “Always, Minho.”

Saying his name sends him over. He comes inside you, claiming you even there, then stays inside you after while you kiss.

You stay in his arms all night, making love and sleeping then making love some more. When the sun rises, you wake to him holding you, stroking your cheek affectionately.

He kisses your forehead and you nestle comfortably against him, happy to be home.

#lee minho x reader #lee know x reader #minho x reader #skz x reader #lee know smut #lee minho smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #valentinesdaystories #tattywood

950 notes · View notes

nkjemisin · 1 month

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Hello! I’ve been seeing a lot about your work on social media lately and would love to read your books. What series do you recommend I start with?

Thanks ☺️

That depends on your taste/interest. I don't really write the same kind of thing from series to series, because I get bored easily and often want to try new subgenres/styles/etc. So I'll just briefly list my series and you can pick the one that appeals the most.

There's the Inheritance Trilogy, (link goes to the first book) my first published novels. A secondary world that has enslaved its own gods deals with the repercussions of that, from the POVs of three mortals. There's an overarching plot arc for all three books -- and there are some side-stories for this trilogy, too -- but each has a different narrator and takes place at different times. First person past tense, if you care about that sort of thing. (I don't, but some people seem weirdly attached to/repulsed by particular persons/tenses, so I'm including that info here.)

Then there's the Dreamblood Duology, which were actually written before the Inheritance books but I couldn't get them published at first because publishing in the 2000s was hella racist, basically. (I know, it hasn't changed much... but that little bit of change was enough for me to break in.) These books are as close to traditional fantasy as I'm probably ever going to get, except that they take place in faux ancient Egypt instead of faux medieval Europe. The story follows priests of the dream goddess as they're forced to deal with a conspiracy that threatens to inflict horrors on their society. Third person past tense for both books.

Next up is the Broken Earth trilogy. That's my experimental one, with first, second, and third-person POVs, present tense, a completely non-Earth world, and some heavy themes. All three books form a single story spanning, oh, forty thousand years or so, but mostly they're centered on one incredibly angry middle-aged mother who is on a roaring rampage of revenge/revolution. Features earthbenders, anti-magic groomers, magic statue people, and the apocalypse (again). Lots of "dark" themes and horror moments (harm to children, systemic bigotry, people-eating bugs, more).

My most recent books are the Great Cities duology. Urban fantasy set in modern-day New York, third person multiple POV ensemble cast. Turns out cities come to life once they hit a certain point, and then they claim a human avatar to represent and protect them. New York turns out to have six. It's also got some very unwanted tourists in the form of Lovecraftian entities that are trying to destroy it, along with reality as we know it. I meant for these to be lighthearted and silly and I think they kind of are, but there are still some notable political elements in them. (I mean, it's set in modern-day New York, and I started them the year Trump got elected, so...) It's lighthearted for me, anyway.

So, pick your poison!

#answered asks

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seresinhangmanjake · 6 months

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The One I Want: Part 7

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x plus size!reader

Summary: You’re new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Notes/Warnings: traumatic past, trust issues, cursing, very likely typos

Words: 3262

The One I Want Masterlist

Jake Seresin is a puzzle whose pieces, as you have come to see, are already slotted together. You learned tonight that a few of those pieces are worn from being picked at, but they don’t impede his ability to be complete. Jake is beautiful and smart with a well-built confidence and a certain quality that, with enough time, makes you want to open yourself up to him. Everything about him goes together. It all works. Those pieces make Jake the man he is, in all of his perfection. So being in his presence, you want to be who he wants you to be. You want to be just as put together. But you’re not sure you’re strong enough for that.

“You can trust me,” he says, your hands still clasped together. You glance down at those hands, wondering when exactly he wove his fingers with yours. “I’ll share first if that’ll make it any easier.”

Eyes flicking up, you take in the intensity of the pair staring back at you—the depth within them, the swelling pupils that are pushing the green into a thin ring and drawing you in. They’re too honest, and it hits you like a ton of bricks.

Has anyone else ever looked at you this way? You think the closest instance you can recall involves the man you’d naively fallen in love with who lived in the first town you’d moved to on your own. But his look was a hidden lie discovered far too late.

You suppose there was a fraction of Jake’s honesty in Millie’s eyes when she expressed her thoughts and told her story so openly. She would probably be willing to attempt understanding you if you offered it.

You know you’re reaching, though. Trying to grasp at something that isn’t all there to prove that the way Jake is looking at you now is nothing unique. That it’s not special. That he doesn’t make your heart pound or your stomach flutter or cause a tingle to creep up your spine.

But when you consider telling him the truth of your history, you already sense the shame you’ve been living with for years preparing to double in force. And how can you allow that? You don’t need anything else weighing you down. You can’t possibly handle more. Certainly not from him.

You tear your eyes away from his and aren’t shocked to find that that’s exactly what it feels like—a tear. A tearing that holds so much resistance you can practically hear the slow rip that severs the connection.

“It’s not that easy,” you whisper.

“It can be,” he says, fingers tightening around yours. “You know how much I want to know you.”

The closing of your throat doesn’t allow you to swallow. An invisible hand is wrapped around your neck, blocking your oxygen, fogging your vision with unwanted tears. Your lip quivers all on its own.

Jake reaches out, lightly pressing his thumb to that lip as if he could stop its trembling.

Then you shake your head and his thumb disappears.

Standing, you try to step away, but his hand, still tangled with yours, stops you. You think he’s doing it on purpose, refusing to let you leave until he gets what he wants, but when you look at his face, it’s blank. His eyes stare ahead, the corners of his mouth are turned downward, and he doesn’t seem to feel you prying open his fingers to free your hand.

His arm drops and slides into his lap, and you take that as a sign to retreat to your bedroom.

You’re not quite through the door when you hear, “I wish you felt like you could trust me.” His voice is as defeated as his facial expression had shown. Low, dark, raspy. “Whatever it is, it's not going to change how I see you.”

You want to believe him so badly. So much so that, without any effort, you could let it consume you. But you can’t bet on his words. So you close your door the rest of the way.

—

You’ve thought about him for a week straight, and each of those thoughts has scribbled their way into the notebook you’d sort of kind of—would deny it if anyone asked—stolen from the shop.

But your little notes on Jake you don’t allow to blend with the chaotic notes of your past. He gets his own pages with words written in neater script. There’s not a single smudge of ink from your hand rubbing the paper in a rush to get your memories down before you forget some of their details. Not a single splotch of liquid black from a pen pressed too harshly onto the paper. No holes from that pen tracing the same words over and over in a fit of dampened anger. Like Jake, your notes on him are neat, and beautiful, and perfect in appearance.

What they contain, however, is something different: bunches of sentences warring with one another as you try to decide what you’re going to do next. You live with him. You see him every day. You’ll have to interact, which means you’ll have to get over this hump. The only problem is that it may not be a hump Jake wants to get over.

In the months you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him the way he was that night last week. So much was crammed into a couple of hours and it provided you with a fresh image of him—not an image that changed, exactly, but simply an image that developed a new layer. And you liked having that layer of his visible, until it became clear that the spotlight was turning to you so you may develop another layer as well.

Stepping out of that light meant plenty to you—you knew the message you were sending, even though you felt resistance from every part of you screaming to stay put—but it did more to Jake than you imagined, and that realization came in the form of Jake not speaking to over the past weeks worth of mornings, not smiling, not waiting for you so you could share breakfast. He’s gone before your alarm goes off.

It only took you ten hours to notice the void that formed in your chest from missing him around you. After ten hours—most of which you spent trying to sleep—you felt awful in more ways than one. Not only were you exhausted and absorbing your dislike of his absence that first morning, but Jake, despite his hurt state, continues to take care of you.

Those breakfasts he doesn’t wait around to share with you are still available, already made up on a plate with saran wrap keeping them safe in the fridge. The post-its he sticks to the coffee pot to inform you of said breakfasts never fail to have a small smiley face drawn in the corner. And to be fair, he does speak to you a little, but unless it seems to be a matter of life or death, which you haven’t been able to manage, his answers are clipped. Even then, it could be that those short answers are the best he can do for himself rather than anything he is doing for your benefit. With how much Jake talks in general, and with how lively you are used to seeing him, maybe he can’t be one-hundred percent silent no matter how much he wants to.

Regardless of what it really is, the tension has grown thicker by the day.

These days are not ones you want to morph into routine. You can’t watch them settle and solidify when you crave him and what he adds to your new life to this degree. Which means you have to figure yourself out. Not all of you—that will take some time—but enough of you that you can approach Jake and take the chance to be honest with him. His offer to exchange stories shows that it is not just you who needs it, but Jake as well.

That is what has prompted you to bring your notebook to work over the last seven days. And the more time you spend writing your notes, the more you release from your damaged soul, and the more good things about Jake start piling up. His faults are underwhelming and overshadowed, and all it confirms is that you want him back. So you decide that when he picks you up from work, something you never expected him to continue doing considering your current relationship, you’re going to break the silence by asking for another chance.

—

When Rooster’s truck pulls up to the store, Millie is leaning halfway out the passenger side window, one hand waving your way, the other arm bracing her precarious position. A moment later, her elbow slips on the sill and she lurches forward with a sharp yelp. Looking past her, you can see Rooster reach over the center console and wrap his arm around her waist to pull her back to safety.

“Babe, please,” he groans. “You’re stressing me out.”

She glances at him over her shoulder. “Oh, you hush. I’ve never fallen.”

“Yet,” he emphasizes. “I’d like it if my girlfriend stayed alive. I've got plans that involve you.”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head, Darlin’. You know my hips will save me from making it all the way out the window.”

Rooster only rolls his eyes in response before unwrapping his arm and giving her ass a light smack.

Millie looks back at you, her grin wide and displaying a row of straight, white teeth. “Hey, honey. Workin’ hard or hardly workin’?”

“You can only work so hard here,” you say with a weak chuckle. “Where’s Jake? Is he okay?”

You want that answer as much as you don’t. You pray he’s fine and safe, but then it means the tension that hasn’t dwindled the slightest has finally become too much for him. Though you’d rather he avoid you than be injured or ill, it hurts no less. Right as you devise a plan to bring the two of you back together, he pulls further away.

“Oh, he’s um…” Millie bites her lip.

“Staying on base tonight,” Rooster says, leaning back to meet your eyes over Millie’s shoulder. “He went in to get some extra work done and thought it would be easier.”

If the lie weren’t so terribly obvious, Rooster’s face would’ve betrayed him. The man is not a master of deception. He can’t pull it off. You suppose that bodes well for Millie, if he would ever dare tell her an untruth. Not that you can imagine a situation where he would.

Millie’s nerves wipe from her face at her boyfriend’s explanation, and you almost snort from how cute they are. They operate as their own little team, supporting and backing their partner up to keep the other from falling. Whether they succeed in their mission, like trying to convince you Jake is busy, is another thing.

Your little red-headed friend transforms back into her giddy self. “Right, so he asked us to come get ya,” she says with a wink.

Now that, you do believe. Jake may not want to see you, but he wouldn’t leave you stranded. And as disappointing as it is to see Rooster’s truck instead of the one you perfer, you know it’s not enough to convince you to give up on your end goal. With your plan thwarted, you only gain more time to figure out exactly how you’re going to bring up what you want to tell Jake.

—

You’ve decided Sundays are the best days. Sundays are easy days. They are days set aside for relaxing, where you can spend twenty-four hours in your home with only a robe wrapped around your body and not be judged. Many stores are closed on Sundays, the gift shop included, and most people don’t work, Jake included. And Jake Seresin, though not the type to sit around, does allow himself the mornings of Sundays to be what he would normally consider lazy.

When you first moved in, you didn’t love this habit of his. Knowing no one but him and knowing no place but the apartment meant you didn’t do anything or see anyone else. He had you locked in with him for at least three hours before he met his team at the gym, and he took those three hours very seriously. Most of their minutes he dedicated to being around ta you,lking to you, asking you questions—anything you did, he was there to do it with you. And while it once bugged you a bit, it eventually grew on you. He grew on you. You stopped caring about how he spent his Sunday mornings because your routine and his melded into a comfortable place, and you've had no intentions of disrupting that—until now.

After forgoing sleep to spend the entire night thinking about Jake, you’re sure you look like hell when you step out of your room and into the living room where he sits. You didn’t think to check yourself in the mirror, and Jake doesn’t acknowledge you in favor of reading his book to confirm or deny your likely-ragged state.

You don’t care how you look, though.

You care about pushing yourself forward.

“Jake?”

His hum is dismissive, but you don’t hold it against him. You understand his feelings too well, and you accept them. When he was so vulnerable and raw—when he told you something he’d not told even his closest friends—you denied him the same courtesy, and that decision hurt him. He aches. You still see it on his face and in his movements. The way his fingers gripped the book and his shoulders tensed the moment you entered the room. How he pulled his bottom lip inward and trapped it between his teeth and has yet to let it go.

He’s trying to hide the discomfort your presence causes, and he is doing so well that, as someone with plenty of experience, you’re almost proud. But the act unravels completely when you say, “I trust you.”

His head slowly rises. Then, closing the book and setting it aside, Jake stands from his spot on the couch, brow pinched as if he had not heard you correctly. “What did you say?”

“I trust you,” you repeat.

One hand settles on his hip as the other goes through his hair. He squeezes his eyes shut in a two-second long blink as if trying to snap himself awake. Lips part, perhaps to say something, anything, but then they seal again.

Before you lose your nerve, you inhale, exhale, and with a single nod, mutter to yourself a final, “I trust him.”

Then you spew out everything you’ve kept inside—everything you’ve kept away from him.

“My parents left me,” you say aloud for the very first time. You try to hold them back, but tears accompany that statement, gathering in the corners of your eyes. “Dad first, when I was nine. Mom when I was fourteen. They left and I don’t know where they are, and I don’t really care, but they disappeared and it…it messed me up. It left me lost, and I learned to let people hurt me because no one showed me anything else. I let people treat me however they want, which most often means attacking the insecure parts of me. I let them call me names and look at me in ways that strip me of my dignity, and I can’t stop it. I don’t stop them.

“When I can’t take it anymore, I leave wherever I am,” you say before pausing to catch your breath.

Jake doesn’t take the opportunity to speak. He stands there, staring, listening, waiting for you to offer him more.

“You weren’t that far off at the diner when you said I was trying to live in every beach town for two months before moving on to the next. They haven’t all been beach towns, but there have been many of them and I never stay for long,” you admit. “The minute I have the means, I go. I graduated high school by myself and left my hometown, fell in love with an asshole in the second town and left, got a job at a bar whose drunks found me an easy target, so I left again, and it’s been the same everywhere I’ve landed, again and again and again. People break me down so I find someplace new. You are—” You cut yourself off to reconsider your words, “This is my eleventh new place.” One of those tears breaks free to slide down your cheek. “And I don’t know how long I’m going to last here, but I already hate the thought of leaving.”

Done with your speech, you release a heavy breath.

When Jake looks away from you, it’s a bucket of ice water dumped over your head. Your heart crushes with the realization that you were right. Jake was wrong. Seeing you differently is not as difficult as you had hoped and he had promised. In fact, he doesn’t see you at all anymore because he won’t even give you a glance. You presented the reality that you are unloved and unwanted and explained exactly why that is, and now he has in his hand all of the reasons why others mistreat you, the ability to evaluate those reasons, and decide for himself if those reasons are valid.

And in that moment, you know you are fucked. You’re about to be lost again. On your own, in the dark, with nothing to hold on to. Not that you didn’t anticipate this coming along eventually, but you would have liked to stick around a little longer.

Through the blur of tears, you see Jake nod. That’s all. No words, no shift in facial expression; he nods to the floor rather than give you the respect of nodding to your face. He nods again, and then he looks up to meet your gaze.

Jake’s hands fall from his hips, and in four strides he closes the space keeping you apart, cups your jaw in the heat of his palms, and plants his lips on yours.

His kiss lands somewhere between hard and soft, between eager and restrained, between needy and downright desperate. And after adjusting to the shock he plunged you into, your mouth begins to move against his.

Jake is warm, and cozy; he tastes like the one Splenda packet he puts in the oatmeal he occasionally has for breakfast, and it all makes your brain hum in a comfortable delight. You take from him all that he takes from you, and give to him all that he gives you, and in the process, accept that you truly want this and he wants this and that’s all that matters. You’re not working harder to please him than he is working to please you. You’re not thinking about what he will think when your lips separate. You’re not afraid of being a disappointment because were that the case, surely he would have released you by now. But he hasn’t released you. He holds on and pulls closer and doesn’t let go, not even when the kiss breaks.

Thumbs stroke your cheeks as your eyes slowly drag from his swollen lips to his nose to that mossy-green shade you’ve become attached to. There’s a hint of concern in his stare. But then you smile, so he smiles, and the concern fades.

“Your turn,” you whisper.

---

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#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin fic #jake hangman seresin fic #top gun hangman #top gun #jake hangman seresin x y/n #jake seresin x plaus size!reader #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin angst #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin fanfiction #tgm #tgm fic

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gatitties · 5 months

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Hello again my little butterfly 🦋✨

I came to place another order if that's ok! so, the scenario is a One Piece AU, where YN has an arranged marriage with Shanks, who is one of the richest men in town, but even so, YN decides to run away on her wedding day and throw herself off a bridge, but she can't, they find her and the family manages to bring her back to the wedding, Shanks is a man very much in love with YN, the moment he sees the sadness in YN's eyes when she walks up the aisle and puts the ring on her finger Shanks, he decides to conquer her and make her the happiest wife in the world! ( PS: Shanks is in a desperate situation when he learns that his beloved literally decided to throw herself off a bridge rather than stay with him, even little sad :( )

─Shanks x wife!reader

─Summary: you didn't want to be part of that ceremony, but you're not brave enough to run away either

─Warnings: slight mention of suicide attempt, modern AU

Oh hi hi love!! 🫶🏻🦋 you really like angst 😳

You ignored the perplexed looks of people, without stopping or thinking about a second option, you gripped the thin white fabric of your wedding dress harder so as not to trip over it, your shoes had long since disappeared so you could run more comfortably. You didn't want this, you didn't want to marry an unknown guy, no one thought about your feelings? It's not something your parents have the right to play with and you weren't going to let them ruin your life for financial convenience.

The moment adrenaline started to increase when you saw how you were now being persecuted, probably due to the absence in the ceremony that was taking place in the nearby church, you felt bad for the man you had been engaged to, since it wasn't his fault either and you didn't even know him enough to determine that he was a horrible person, but this decision was too hasty and you definitely didn't agree to this.

With your heart in your throat you ran until you tripped over your own sore feet, your breathing accelerated even more when you heard shouts of your name, taking courage again you stood up with a new impetus, although when you noticed how the distance between your pursuers was shortening more and more, your brain began to draw an extreme line in your thoughts.

Would it hurt? Could you die? Well, you were going to see for yourself what it felt like to jump off a bridge just to avoid facing an unwanted fate.

You quickly climbed onto the thick railing, stabilizing yourself standing on it, the next few seconds felt like a blur, like a part of memory that was difficult to remember, the fear of possible death and the indecision that comes with taking a long time to jump into the void made one of the guys chasing you caught you before you did something crazy.

The next thing you know after that, you were back in one of the private rooms of the church, being yelled at by your mother while your father looked on disapprovingly, you didn't care, nothing mattered to you at that moment, you let them go back to put on your makeup, you let them put new shoes on you and they changed the dirty surface fabric of your dress as if you were a doll, lifeless.

The ceremony returned to its course, Shanks waited awkwardly all this time at the altar, and when he saw you appear next to him his heart shattered, you weren't even looking at him, your eyes were lost somewhere far away in this unwanted reality, you lacked any kind of expression. He knew it, he knew how you felt, and yet he felt a little selfish for wanting to be your husband, for wanting to love you unconditionally, this marriage may be arranged, but he admired every drop of courage you poured out to prevent this event, every anger and every fierce response you gave to the first meetings between both families.

"Now… husband and wife, you can kiss each other."

You were both so absorbed in your own thoughts that you barely heard the priest's last words. Shanks was the first to step forward, holding your waist slowly as if he were asking permission and asking if it was okay to do so. You didn't move an inch, your eyes were still lost even when he sealed your fate with a cold kiss devoid of love, at least, lacking on your part.

Shanks knew it wouldn't be easy, that you weren't going to trust, that he wasn't going to receive tons of affection, even looks, he knew you were in a delicate state, after all, you'd rather almost kill yourself than get married.

You didn't bother with his emotions, you didn't bother to ask about his tastes, his hobbies or how his day had been, you just spent the days dead, repeating your routine, your life remained the same in a way, a few more numbers in the account. but in exchange of what? Your freedom and decision. You were hurt, you had been damaged by your own parents, your emotional wounds would not heal overnight and you would refuse to show a modicum of affection until you recovered.

Shanks knew that he would have to sleep alone for months, that an empty house would await him, that all his praise and gifts would be quickly discarded, but it doesn't matter, maybe you didn't look for him or you didn't want him, but as your husband, he would do everything he could to at least help you cope with the situation, he really loves you, but it won't be easy to win your affection because you never wanted this.

Your heart began to heal over time, it took a long time, you decided to completely break the relationship with your family, although before they were the only ones you could turn to, Shanks showed you that he would be there, that despite not being the husband that you chose as such, made you trust him, made you feel loved again.

He wasn't a bad man, he wasn't the most wonderful person in the world either, but he proved to be enough for you to stop feeling that emptiness inside your heart, step by step he managed to break the walls that you built around your emotions, Shanks turned out to be something unexpected in your life, someone you didn't think would be so important and he was able to grant some peace, some happiness back into your life.

Maybe you are not yet ready to accept that he is your husband, but you slowly began to meet someone you could voluntarily fall in love with.

#one piece #op #one piece x reader #one piece modern au #modern au #shanks #shanks x reader #x reader #husband shanks #wife reader #fem reader #request #one piece x fem reader #shanks x wife reader #sfw #reader insert #xreader #angst?

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